Accident Baby
by practice4morale
Summary: Edward and Winry didn't plan on becoming parents so soon, but they never imagined how hard it might be to even get to that point. Winry struggles through a difficult pregnancy and Edward struggles with being helpless. Riza (Hawkeye) Mustang offers to come to Risembool to help out. Downside? She's bringing Roy and their three year old daughter with her.
1. You invited who?

**Author's Note: It's been a whole semester since I've invested in a multi-chapter fanfiction and I am ready to go! Let's do this!**

**Warning: this plot will line up with some of my other fanfics in ways, but not perfectly, so don't hound me about being incongruent. This is its own thing. Okay, enjoy!**

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Chapter One: You invited who?

Winry looked strange to me. Not just as a human being, but as her. There was so much less of her than there used to be. The term, 'morning sickness,' was deceptive. Winry had been struggling to keep anything down all day every day for the past seven months since I'd gotten her pregnant. _Mornings_ was just her warming up. She'd lost so much weight now that I could see her atrophied muscles right under her skin, and now that the baby bump was finally showing prominently, it looked too round and perfect against her gaunt figure.

I watched her spine sliding under her skin as she pulled her nightgown off over her head to throw it on the floor where I'd end up getting it for her before bed at the end of the day. She looked over her shoulder from the edge of the bed and stared at me.

"You woke up," she said.

"So did you," I said.

She patted her naked tummy. "Junior's an early riser."

I felt my face tighten. I rose out of the covers and made it over to her. "Is he kicking?"

I wasn't asking if the baby was currently kicking, or even recently kicking. I was asking if he had made any kind of noticeable movement at all since her last update. Her shoulders sank and she looked at the carpet. I regretted asking.

"Sorry," I said. "Just figured if he was keeping you up," I trailed off. We'd taken to calling the baby, 'he,' without realizing we were doing it at first. Just made sense in my subconscious that a girl would've been gentler on Winry's system somehow.

"No, I just had to pee." Winry smiled softly. "Again."

"Oh." I put my arm around her, still feeling like there was too much of me compared to her. "You don't want to go back to bed? It's not even eight yet. You should rest." I touched the side of her pregnant tummy where I was used to hugging the crook of her waist. "Both of you."

"I'm hungry," she said.

"To the kitchen it is." We didn't argue with her appetite. We longed for her appetite.

I walked across our floor to the closet where she'd just replaced the semi-loose dresses she'd recently outgrown with official maternity dresses. The baby was small and Winry had carried him like he was nearly invisible most of the pregnancy. She'd gotten pretty excited when he'd gotten big enough to merit a maternity label on her clothing. For being seven months along, that was scarily pathetic.

I pulled out a cottony pink dress that felt soft and looked soft and I showed it to her from the closet. She nodded and put her arms up for me to pull it over her head. She wasn't too sick to dress herself. She just liked being coddled sometimes. I didn't mind coddling her these days. She realized that.

"It's going to be nice," she said as I smoothed the dress over her lap. She set her hands on her tummy. "When the baby finally gets out. I feel like a human deathtrap. I think it'll do better outside of me."

"Staying healthy for two people isn't easy," I said, giving her my hand. I pulled her to her feet. "Trust me. You don't want to know what Alphonse looked like straight out of the Portal."

She frowned. "You're relating pregnancy to alchemy stuff again, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but Al was the skinny one in that case."

Winry pointed to her stomach. "And you were the tiny one."

I bristled. This shouldn't have still bothered me. Winry patted my arm.

"What do you want for breakfast?" she said.

"Food," I said. "You?"

"Eggs."

I'd learned not to question Winry's menu choices. I kept it to myself how craving scrambled eggs while queasy didn't make sense. I'd nearly gotten a wrench to the face last time I'd brought that up.

I watched in silence as my wife emptied our fridge of two cartons of eggs, half a bottle of milk, and a block of Swiss cheese. I kept my mind open to the chance that she may have only been cooking for her at that point. Her and the baby. I counted as she cracked all twenty four eggs into a metal bowl and whisked them with the milk and a lot of salt. She opened the pantry and pulled out a can of cut corn. She didn't even bother draining it before emptying it entirely into the metal bowl and pouring the mess onto a skillet. Yep, she wasn't cooking for me. She knew what she wanted.

"Don't make yourself sick," I said, grabbing a few slices of bread for the toaster.

She didn't give me a reply. I hadn't been looking for one. But then she gave me a glance and said, "I'll be careful."

Something in her voice sounded sincere and I realized I might've sounded too sincere when I'd made the comment.

"I can finish those for you," I said. "You can sit."

"You'll dry them out," she said. "Or take them off too soon."

I pulled a chair away from the breakfast table and set it down behind her. "You can still sit."

She peered at me from her eggs again. "It'll give me a pretty awkward angle to the stove."

She was offering to do it for my sake. I shook my head and put the chair back with the table. I retreated back to my toast.

"I worry too much," I said, finally. "Don't I?"

She was quiet for a long time. "I worry too," she said softly. "The doctor says worrying is bad for the baby."

"Don't worry about that." I rolled my eyes at myself. "If that wasn't redundant, I don't know what is."

Winry set a platter on the counter and dumped the cooked eggs over it. "You have a way with words, Ed." She smiled.

I tried to mask a shudder as she plopped handfuls of grated Swiss cheese to melt over her creation. I grabbed my toast out of the toaster and set the slices on my plate just in time for Winry to look over and say, "Is one of those for me?"

I sat with her at the table and held my plate out to her. She grabbed two of my three slices and began shoveling eggs between them to make some ungodly new breakfast sandwich. I wolfed down my remaining piece before she could finish hers and steal more. I wanted to believe she was going to keep all of it down, but from past experience, the odds weren't promising.

I sat back and watched her devour every scrap from that platter. I laughed to myself. She noticed. She looked up.

"What?" she said, a forkful of eggs halfway into her mouth.

"When people talk about pregnant ladies," I gestured to her, "this is what I imagine." Not the parts we'd been worrying about.

"Me too," she said with her mouth full. "Soon as I stop getting sick, I'm going to get fat." That sounded good. She laughed at my smile.

I sighed. I leaned my chin on my fist and watched her clean the scraps off her plate. "Are you really that worried, Winry?" I asked.

She licked the crumbs from the sandwich off her lips and set her fork down with a lonely clink. "We're okay, Ed," she said with her eyes down. "We've got two more months for him to grow."

"And you?" I said. "You get so sick sometimes. I feel like we're doing something wrong."

Winry sighed in a harsh, frustrated puff. "The doctor says it's all hormonal. It just hits some women harder than others."

I wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault, but I was too sure it might make her feel worse than she already did to risk saying it. I stood, came behind her and bent to wrap my arms around her shoulders. She rocked her head back to rest against me.

"This wasn't what we had in mind," she said. She closed her eyes. "There. I said it. We've both been thinking it."

Yeah, ever since I'd gotten her pregnant right in the middle of my rehabilitation from a major automail port upgrade on my leg. The surgery had been urgent at the time and Winry and I had been forced to put our plans to get married on hold for a few months until I could actually walk her down the aisle. We'd just been stupid enough not to wait all the way.

We'd figured it would be kind of like a secret elopement without the actual marriage license and then we'd just have the official ceremony when I got better. Hadn't planned on getting her pregnant four months before I was steady enough to actually go through with the ceremony. At least the baby had been small enough then for Winry not to show in the gown. Our so-called 'wedding night' had been spent with me rubbing her sore feet from dancing in heels and then holding her hair when she puked cake into our toilet at three in the morning.

"Ed," she said quietly. She put her hand on my arm and held it there. "Do you," she leaned her head back more to meet my eyes. "Do you wish we'd waited?"

I wasn't great at lying to her. I felt my expression falling a little. "Yes," I said. "Sometimes." I watched the guilt and hurt begin to fill her eyes. I reached a couple fingers to touch her belly. "But not enough to wish this away."

Winry closed her eyes and pressed her face against the bare skin of my arm. It didn't surprise me when her cheek started feeling wet. Tears came easier for her lately. She sniffled. I straightened, loosening for a moment with the intent to come around and kneel in front of her so I could hold her better, but she stopped me. She gripped tight to my wrist where I'd been reaching to touch her stomach and pressed my palm just above her bellybutton. I felt the baby move under my hand and suddenly I couldn't breathe. I was afraid to even think.

"There's Daddy," said Winry, crying. "There he is."

"There's baby," I said, almost laughing. My face started smiling so big it began to hurt. I placed my left hand on Winry's tummy beside the right one already over her bellybutton. It had been seven months and this was the first time I'd gotten to do this. His kicks had always been so weak and short, not to mention rare. I'd only heard Winry talk about them.

The kicking tapered off after just a few seconds, but I kept my hands on Winry's stomach and she kept her hands over my hands. The back of my throat ached and I realized my body was thinking about crying too. I swallowed the feeling and kissed Winry's head. "That's awesome," I said.

Winry laughed kind of like a sob. "I think he liked those eggs."

I fought the urge to tell her there was no way in hell.

"Ed?" she said.

"Yeah?"

"Are you scared?"

"Yeah." I shrugged. "Kind of an occupational hazard of being alive."

She smiled and I helped her up. I'd kind of dodged the question. She'd meant for me to be more specific. Neither of us felt particularly compelled to speak up about it right then.

We spent the day doing what we usually did. Took it easy. Winry wasn't on bed rest, so we tried to keep it that way while we had that kind of control. We ended up on the couch with her head in my lap while I read books on the laws of equivalent exchange that I wanted to prove wrong someday. I'd put alchemy on hold when my leg had started acting up less than a year ago and then had put it on hold longer when the baby happened. Oddly enough, defying the laws of equivalent exchange and redeveloping my ability to use alchemy seemed insignificant next to being a dad.

Winry turned her head on my lap and tapped my metal knee with her knuckles. We'd stacked two bed pillows under her head and behind her neck to cushion her against my automail then a sofa pillow under her back and another systematically placed between her knees to cushion her pregnant body.

"You need help with your maintenance, honey?" she asked.

"You should build me a new leg," I said.

"What?"

"Then maybe you'd quit trying to tinker with the one that's attached to me."

She stared up at me. "Have I been that bad?"

"Winry, last night after my shower you dried each bolt individually with a hair dryer and a Q-tip."

She winced like she might actually be embarrassed this time. "I did, didn't I?"

"Gearhead," I muttered under my breath.

"Better than an alchemy freak who can't perform alchemy," she said.

"No need to get mean," I said. I paused. I locked her gaze. I looked away. "I love you."

She paused a moment. "I love you too."

We were quiet for a while, just glancing at one another, looking away then glancing at one another some more. We were having conversations with our eyes and they all ended in, 'waiting sucks.' Winry reached up and grabbed the bottom of the book in my hands.

"Read to me," she said.

"You kidding?" I said. "You hate this stuff."

"Make it sound interesting."

"It's already interesting to me."

She groaned. "You're no fun."

"You're starting to miss the days I used to be hard on my automail, aren't you?" I said.

"Shut up."

"I could go break it for you right now. It'll only take a minute."

She looked at me like she was considering it. She looked away and shook her head. "No, I probably shouldn't be working on automail at all at this point."

"You really are a selfless parent," I said. I put my book down and patted Winry's head. "Why don't you try to sleep while you can. You got up too early. That's every morning this week."

"I have to pee," she said. "Again."

"Impressive."

I helped her up and she shuffled to the bathroom. I stood outside the door, thinking about things, thinking about how Winry hadn't puked the eggs up yet and it was almost lunchtime and that made me a little proud of her and the kid for some reason. Thinking about how domesticated I'd been acting lately, how old friends might've reacted if they'd seen me now. Winry came out after a few minutes with dripping hands.

"I knocked the towel off the sink," she said, rubbing her wet palms on her dress. "I can't get it."

"I'll do it," I said. With my leg all messed up the way it had been, Winry had spent the first few months of her pregnancy bending over for me. We'd switched roles now.

We sat down on the couch again. This time Winry didn't lie down. She just sat, leaned against me. She was trying to make it obvious she didn't feel like sleeping like I'd suggested earlier. It felt weird, how her shoulder and hip bone jutted against my side. Winry had always been slim, but never…pointy. I put my arm around her and leaned back on the couch.

"Winry, I've been thinking," I said. "We should check you into a proper hospital before the baby's due. Just to be safe. I'm not saying that Doctor Pope doesn't know what he's doing, because he does, but Risembool doesn't have much to offer besides a tiny clinic and speedy house calls. If something happened, I'd have to take you on a train to get you to someplace better qualified. I'm not too sure how we'd handle that if you were in labor." I smiled, but it felt grim on my face even to me.

"Alright," she said. "I'm all for it. Don't want to risk another Rush Valley incident."

Especially since _she'd_ been the one to save the day in that case, whereas I'd been and I still was useless. I cleared my throat. She had her eyes on me like she was waiting for me to tell her what we were going to do.

"We can go to Dublith," I said. "The actually have specialists there, not just general practitioners or whatever."

"That's where your teacher is."

"Yeah," I said. "She used to get sick a lot. Not as much anymore, but she still has good doctors. We could head over a few weeks before you're due and stay with her and Sig until it's time. She'd probably love helping me take care of you. I know she'll love helping us take care of the baby. She probably won't give him back."

Winry stroked her tummy. "I'll take my wrench just in case."

I snorted at the idea of Teacher and Winry fighting over the baby on a physical level. Somehow I'd be the only one to get beat up. I just knew it.

"Alphonse called, remember?" said Winry. "He said he and May can't make it until the week of."

I pouted. "Yeah, that stupid Alkehestry Academy of their takes up all of Al's time. I don't get it. When I was growing up, alchemists taught themselves how to transmute in their basements or dark corners. If we wanted a _master_ to train us, we had to search out some shady character and beg on our knees for them to take us on. The idea of an alkehestry 'professor' just sounds wrong."

"You sound so old," said Winry. "Feeling neglected, Ed?"

"Just think it's stupid that my little brother's training alchemists to bypass half the State Alchemist exam because they got straight A's on their Alkehestry Academy report card."

Okay, maybe I was sounding a little bitter about it. I couldn't help it. Winry was sick, my baby was sick, and Al was hundreds of miles away working for the good of mankind. I was just too stubborn to tell him that.

"What about the Mustangs?" asked Winry. I'd wondered when she was going to bring them into this.

"What about them?" I groaned.

"Riza's such a sweetie. How about we ask her to come here before it's time to go to Dublith? She could help out when I get bigger and can't move around. She could even come with us to Dublith just to see us off safely."

"Riza's such a sweetie?" I said. "Winry, it freaks me out when you call them by their first names."

Mustang and Hawkeye had disappeared technically as fugitives for a few months, never really explained to the public, then returned to society a few days after an abrupt economic crash in Drachma, also unexplained. Couldn't be a coincidence knowing Mustang.

The two of them came back married, unexplained, with a three year old adoptive daughter named Nina, very unexplained. Mustang came back with a broken shinbone and Hawkeye came back in a two week coma, explained as a hunting accident. Seriously? That was the best that stupid bastard could come up with?

Fuhrer Grumman had been surprisingly forgiving upon their return and turned some shockingly blind eyes from all the Mustangs' unexplained, technically illegal progress, which probably meant their months as fugitives had been spent doing some very self-sacrificing things that Grumman felt responsible for. Mustang and Grumman had quite the little friendship going on.

Somehow Mustang and Hawkeye had managed to integrate right back into their military positions quietly in spite of it all and, while Mustang apparently turned down a promotion from Grumman first thing home, he'd happily accepted one just a few weeks ago, so said Hawkeye during her last phone call with Winry. It never stopped bothering me that those two had warmed up to each other like girlfriends since we'd borrowed Nina as our flower girl at the wedding. Though, it did make me happy that it probably bothered Mustang too. Having his wife talking about Winry's pregnancy updates at the dinner table probably ate him alive.

"Ed?" said Winry.

"Yeah?"

"You're doing that creepy smile again."

I flattened my features. "Sorry. I was thinking about Mustang."

"Why is it every time you think about him you either look sadistic or furious?" She leaned her ear on my shoulder. "I swear, Ed. You've got the unhealthiest friendships going."

"That bastard's not my friend!" I said. "He's more like a parasite. I can get rid of him. No thanks to you."

"You were the one who suggested we use their daughter in our wedding."

"I was kidding!"

"Not all the way, Ed." She touched my arm. "Admit it. You like their family. We don't have to fake it around them."

"That's not the equivalent of liking them, Winry."

Although, it wasn't nothing. It was tough living in Risembool where people lived small lives. Winry and I sometimes had trouble trying to hide how messed up we were. How messed up I was, at least. I figured that was why Al stayed away for such long periods of time. You could only stand so much peaceful company when you'd seen what we'd seen.

I breathed. "Okay, Winry. What do you want?"

I could feel her cheek smiling against my arm. "Really?"

"Yes."

"I want to call Riza right now!"

I slumped. "Really?"

"Yes!"

"Fine," I said. "But just her. Don't invite that damn Colonel or I'll…kill the milkman."

"He's not a colonel anymore," she said, rising with her hand on her back like she was lifting herself. "He worked hard to get to General. You should give him credit, Ed."

"I'll pay him his change back when he becomes Fuhrer," I said. "That's all the credit he's getting out of me. Probably more than he deserves. Bastard's been brownnosing his way to the top since he joined up."

"And risking his life behind the curtains."

"Yeah, risking mine too. And yours by the end of it." I stood up. "We've got a pretty delicate balance going. Let's just leave it at that."

"Well, just as long as I get Riza, I'm content."

Still with the first names.

After the phone call that lasted too long by my standards, Winry sat down at the table and ate a full bag of frozen corn right out of the freezer. Corn-sickles. Ick.

She was surprisingly quiet. Normally after a call with Hawkeye she had all kinds of news to report, like how Nina had gained almost a full pound at her last check-up. According to Hawkeye, the poor kid had spent the first few years of her life being experimented on in a Drachman laboratory. She'd looked like a little skeleton in her frilly pink dress at the wedding. Any improvement in her condition really was relevant news.

"Winry," I said with an edge. "You screwed me over, didn't you? Quit playing dumb. What did you do to me?"

"Don't worry about it, Ed." She popped half a handful of corn in her mouth. She winced like it was giving her brain freeze as she swallowed it down.

"Winry."

"Riza and I worked it all out."

"I heard you tell her you'd find a way to, 'talk Ed into it.' Just what are you talking me into?"

She sighed. She looked at me. "Okay, so Roy has a lot of vacation days built up and Riza's used up most of hers this year coming home early to take care of Nina and getting her to all her appointments. So Riza really wants to come here, but if she does she'll use up the rest of her vacation days and then Roy will be left with all this unused vacation time so when he finally started taking off work, Riza will have to stay and so Riza wants to bring him and Nina along so their vacation time coordinates and they can spend time here as a family."

She took a breath. She'd done a great job at spitting it out all at once before I could interject. I had to give her that. I stood up.

"No," I said. "Just no. Mustang? Vacationing at my house? Sleeping in my guest room and eating my food out of my fridge? Not. Happening."

"Technically, this is my house," she said.

"Don't get off track. This isn't funny." Okay, maybe it was a little funny. Not funny enough for me to give in just yet. "Fine then. But he's staying at a hotel." Hotel in Risembool? Ha. Yeah, right. "I don't want to come in here at eight in the morning and find him making oatmeal for himself on my stove."

"Oatmeal?"

"I always imagined him eating something bland for breakfast every morning. He's just a stale kind of person, you know?"

Winry shrugged. "I always thought of him more as a bacon, eggs, and more bacon kind of guy."

"He's too old to be eating like that."

"He's only thirty four."

"How the hell do you know these things?"

"They're bringing Nina," Winry said, offering her melting corn bag to me. I shuddered and she took it back contentedly. "She's a cutie."

Winry was trying to be subtle. She knew I had a soft spot for Mustang's daughter. The name Nina was enough to get my attention from the beginning. I had found it strange that Hawkeye had named her little girl after Nina Tucker. I hadn't realized that the tragedy had stuck with her all that time like it had with me and Al. The name made sense, though. Both Nina's had been treated like lab rats. Nina Mustang hadn't even had a name before the Colonel and Hawkeye had adopted her. They'd given her humanity. I did respect Mustang for that.

"I don't mind _her_," I said. "Just," I got a sinking feeling in my stomach and just trailed off. "Nothing."

"What?" said Winry.

"Nothing," I said. I looked at my hands resting on the table.

"You're going to tell me eventually."

I let out a long breath. She was right. I kept my eyes down, staring at my knuckles as my hands clenched and loosened. "I just," I bit my lip for a second. "I don't want him to see you like this. You know how it is."

"No," she said. "You don't want him to see you when I'm like this. Right?"

"No."

"Ed."

"Fine, you're a little right, but can you blame me? This is miserable. I don't want him hanging around on vacation watching me be miserable. It's awkward and inappropriate and just plain awful. It's a bad idea."

Winry set down her empty frozen corn bag and rested her hand on her tummy. She stared at her baby bump, motionless, silent. She smiled softly. "I think I might've felt him kicking again."

I scooted forward in my chair and put my hand next to hers. I just felt warmth under my palm. She was seven months. The baby was supposed to be kicking multiple times every half hour, the doctor had said. I just held my hand there over her belly, partly waiting out of blind hope, partly just wanting to keep my hand on her.

Winry spoke softly. "Roy's life hasn't exactly been far from miserable since he's been back in Central." Her face saddened. "Riza says Nina still wakes up screaming at least twice a night. She sleeps between her parents. They got her her own bed, but she hasn't slept in it once yet."

She was trying to tell me Mustang could relate in his own way and there was no need to feel self-conscious over my current situation. I sighed. Maybe Winry was a little right about that too. Maybe feeling self-conscious wasn't relevant right then. I took my hands off of her belly slowly, still deciding if I really wanted to part all the way. I folded my hands in my lap.

"You can bet he's not going to act like a doting father in front of me," I said. "We'll just be faking the entire time."

"He might surprise you," said Winry. "Roy's been different since Nina. You saw him at the wedding. He's crazy about her. You might find that outweighs saving face in front of you this time around."

"Guess I'm a little past saving face at this point too." I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, okay, I see your point. Fine. Have them over. See if I give a damn what that loser does in his spare time."

Winry got up and hugged me with her bony frame and round tummy, like a gumball on a toothpick. I forced a smile as she lowered herself onto my lap and thanked me three times with her arms around my neck. I was feeling nervous now because it occurred to me that I really might give a damn if Mustang actually showed up. And if he didn't, I might not be as relieved as I wanted to be.

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**Comment so I know you're out there! And I just like reading them...**


	2. Guests' Arrival

**Author's note: Wow, thanks for all the feedback! Seeing it rolling in got me motivated and now I've got chapter two ready to post! As to how quickly I'll be posting upcoming chapters... basically I'll be updating each chapter as soon as I'm done writing each chapter. It'll vary.** **Sorry.**** I'm not doing the chapter-a-day challenge this time around. It was fun while it lasted for FL, but it almost killed me :P**

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Chapter Two: Guests' Arrival

I had to stay on my toes to make sure Winry didn't forget herself and try to do the laundry again. Having guests had always made her feel like she needed to be ready for them and being seven months pregnant made her fidgety. It was a perfect combination for compulsive tidying.

"Hawkeye's coming to help you take it easy," I said. "Seems a little counterproductive for you to be using up all your energy cleaning up so things will be nice when she gets here."

"I just want them to have clean sheets," said Winry, staring longingly into the laundry room. "And fresh towels. They don't even have to match. A couple loads won't kill me." She had to wash the linens separately or the towels would shed lint on them in the machine.

"Why don't I just do it?" I said, knowing she'd have some problem with it. "I spent four years taking care of my own stuff when I was in the military. You can't say I don't know how to use a washing machine."

Winry dragged her hand over her face. "No, you're right. I'm making a big deal out of nothing. Al only slept one night in that bed last time he visited. The sheets are fine."

Was she finally being rational, or did she honestly want to keep me out of her laundry room that badly? I laughed as she retreated back to our bedroom in a pout. The Mustang's would arrive today and she'd spent the better part of the morning talking about preparing for them and then me talking her out of it. We weren't even out of our pajamas yet and it was coming up on ten in the morning.

Winry sat on the bed and flexed her swollen feet. I could tell she was beginning to regret being so active for so long. "I think I'm getting varicose veins," she said, studying her thigh.

"There's always automail," I said from the door.

"Ha. Ha."

"Quit worrying about the cosmetic stuff," I said. I lifted my shirt enough to show the scar on the left side of my stomach. "If you have to look hard to see it, it's not worth your trouble." I dropped my shirt back down.

"Yeah, sure, turn stretch marks and battle scars into a pissing contest."

Winry was acting sarcastic, but I caught that I'd unsettled her. She'd never really been able to see the scars with the same apathy I'd managed to develop. I leaned on the doorframe, folding my arms.

"So, Mrs. Elric," I said. "Want me to bring you some dry toast?"

Winry hunched. "Don't talk about food."

"Sorry," I said.

She'd been queasy all morning. She'd managed a couple crackers first thing out of bed, but nothing since. We were more afraid of setting off another day of morning sickness than we were afraid of her skipping a meal, sadly enough. I came around the bed and plunked down beside her. She stopped inspecting her leg for imperfections and put her foot in my lap. I started rubbing without her having to say anything. I'd gotten pretty good at it, so she'd said.

"Good?" I asked.

She closed her eyes and smiled. "Mm. Keep going."

The trick to it was the calves. Her feet and ankles were swollen, but massaging all the way from toe to knee helped get her circulation going. I squeezed her lean leg. It was thin enough now for me to wrapped my whole hand around it above the ankle. I felt the prickles under my touch where she'd gone without shaving her legs for a few days. I'd told her over and over not to worry about keeping up with shaving at all, that she didn't exactly have anywhere special to go, but it was the later months of summer and Winry felt strongly about feeling smooth in shorts.

As if reading my mind, Winry switched legs and said, "I need to shave before they get here. Nina's at that age where she'll be pawing at my legs."

"Sure." I grabbed the new foot and started rubbing. I wasn't going to argue on this one. "I need to shave too."

Winry reached over and touched my face, her thumbnail making a scratchy sound as it traced my jaw. I hadn't gotten around to shaving the day before and I was getting scruffy.

"Has Roy ever seen you with facial hair?" Winry asked plainly.

"What?"

"I'm just curious," she said. "He's only seen you a couple times since you left the service. You were practically a kid back then. I kind of want to see how he'd react if he saw you with stubble."

I nodded my chin out of her hand. "Not everyone's as sentimental as you."

"He's going to notice."

"That I'm a slob?"

Winry pinched her cheeks and smiled sickeningly bright. "That you're all grown up."

I released her leg and leaned back. "Give me a break."

"Aw, come on, Ed!" she said, putting her leg back in my face. "This is exciting. You were so busy catching up with Al at the wedding that you and Roy hardly got to talk."

"Yeah, sure. That's why we weren't buddy-buddy all night."

"He's going to be staying with us for a month," she said.

I groaned. "Quit reminding me."

"You could at least try, Ed."

"God forbid he feel unwelcome under my roof."

"Technically, it's my roof."

I gave her a look. She just shoved her leg at me again. I gave in and started rubbing along her ankle where I'd left off. She sighed and lay all the way back so her belly faced up, reminding me of a sunset with our bed as the horizon.

"You are my sunshine," I muttered, "my only sun…"

Winry was staring up at me. Her shoulders rippled through a chuckle. My face turned warm.

"Your stomach looks like a sun," I said. Explaining myself just made it sound dumber. "Never mind."

Winry's smile stiffened, her skin paling, and for a moment I was scared she might need to vomit. But then she locked eyes with me and said, "Keep going." She reached her arm up and grabbed my hand from rubbing her foot. She pressed my palm against her tummy. "I think I felt something."

"You mean," my brow creased, "sing?"

She nodded. "Just try."

"Um, okay." I wasn't sure what she wanted. I hadn't even been really singing just then. More like half-singing under my breath. I usually didn't even sing in the shower. I cleared my throat and looked nervously at Winry's baby bump.

"You are my sunshine," I sang in a mumble. I looked at Winry and she nodded for me to keep going. "My only sunshine. You make me happy when," I looked at Winry. "I don't know any more of the words to this song."

"When skies are grey," she sang, rubbing her belly in little circles. She actually sounded nice. She stared up at me, waiting for me to repeat after her.

I swallowed. "When skies are," my voice cut off and got trapped in my throat. Something tickled under my palm. I met Winry's eyes. I could see it in her smile. She'd felt it too.

I took a breath. "When skies are grey."

"You'll never know dear," sang Winry, her voice shaking as tears came down her face, "how much I love you."

The baby thumped under my hand. I got closer and sang to Winry's belly. As I sang, "You'll never know dear," I heard Winry's voice singing it with me and, as the baby continued to move inside her, we found ourselves simultaneously changing the lyrics to, "how much _we_ love you."

Winry sniffled and sang, "Please don't take," and then her voice broke and she cradled her stomach, unable to get the rest out. The baby's movement was tapering off.

"Please don't take," I sang, hovering closer to Winry's belly. I racked my brain for the stupid lyrics. Anything to keep him moving. Just a little longer. "Please don't take," and then I remembered, "my sunshine…away."

I felt that ache in my throat again, my body wanting me to cry. I couldn't feel the baby at all now. He'd picked a pretty awful lyric to get tired on. I didn't bother keeping my hands on and waiting hopefully like I usually did. Winry was sobbing now with the back of her fist over her scrunched eyes. Her body shuddered like her chest was breaking. She hadn't cried like this since we'd had the, "It's not your fault," conversation two months ago.

I slid down on the bed next to her, lying on my side and cradling my arm over her. She snuggled into me like a magnet, like she couldn't get close enough fast enough. She clung to my shirt like someone was trying to take me away from her and buried her snotty face into my chest, making my skin humidly warm under her sobbing breaths. I held her closer, but it still didn't feel like enough. She didn't feel like her. Her body was like bones shifting under empty skin. Her stomach was perfect and prominent, but it wasn't prominent enough, not even almost. Everything felt wrong. Even I felt wrong.

"Sing it again," Winry said.

I couldn't say anything to her. There was nothing I could say. We both knew the baby was done for now. Winry's crying got louder.

"Please, Ed!" she said into my shirt.

"Later," I said. I rubbed gently between her jutting shoulder blades, trying my best to be comforting. "Give him some time."

"No," she said. "No, I need to feel him now, Ed."

My arms became rigid around her, tightening slightly without me meaning to. "He's still there, Winry," I said. "He kicked for a long time. That's a good thing. It means he's feeling good. He's just sleeping it off now. He's okay."

"Ed, I'm so scared," she said, clinging to me hard enough for me to feel her fingers digging into my shoulders, pinching the skin. "I'm killing our baby and I can't make it stop!"

Adrenaline pulsed through me and all I could do for a moment was shake my head while I tried to breathe. I swallowed. "No." She had her tummy against me like I was holding the baby with her. "No, this baby's lucky to have you fighting for him. You're the reason he's gotten this far. Don't start telling him he can't depend on you. You're his hero, Winry. He kicked for your voice too."

Winry's crying mounted as I finished. She relocated her arms to around my neck, tight enough to choke me. Her body throbbed in my arms as she went into a brief series of deep, retching sobs. Then she just tapered off and fell into gentler cries with a lot of whining and sniffling. It seemed pathetic that in that moment I was concerned about Winry getting dehydrated from losing tears. It was pathetic that part of me wanted to tell her to be careful about crying too much.

Part of me wanted to try singing so I could feel the baby move again. Just enough to know he was there.

…

It was exactly two in the afternoon and Winry had said the Mustang's train was scheduled to arrive in Risembool at quarter 'til. So, if all had gone well, they'd pulled in fifteen minutes ago and would probably be coming up on our front door at any second. And Winry was taking a nap.

It didn't make sense to me. Every day for the past month or so I'd been trying to get Winry to sleep more. Now, the one day I would've preferred for her to stay awake, she'd let me tuck her in before noon. And she was still sleeping! Granted, she'd cried a lot. She'd cried for over an hour. She'd cried herself to sleep before she'd even had a chance to get ready for the day. That had left it up to me to be the one to get ready and stay downstairs to let the Mustang's in if she didn't wake up before they arrived. I'd checked on her a few minutes ago and she'd been snoring like Sig Curtis. Apparently pregnancy made women do that, which had been funny for the week it started.

Winry hadn't told me to wake her up when it was time for them to arrive. She'd been too wrapped up in her tears. I knew she'd probably figured getting her up would just be a given, but as uncomfortable as I was with answering the door on my own, I was glad Winry was getting real rest and I wouldn't spoil it for her if I could help it.

So I sat on the countertop, eating a couple ham sandwiches to make up for missed meals spent following Winry around. I'd had to stop myself from peering through the windows to the front yard. After it had gotten closer to two, I'd begun to check for the Mustang's obsessively. All I could do now was marinate on the fact that this would probably be the last quiet moment of my life until my kid moved out of the house. Not a terrible thought depending on who was making the noise.

The knock on the door startled me, not because it was too loud or a break in the silence. It was too…tiny. I'd expected rapping from Hawkeye's knuckles or maybe even impatient pounding from Mustang. Instead what I got was more like a baby woodpecker tapping on the door. For a second I wondered if it really was an animal. Then I got closer to the door and saw the knob jiggling and I heard a little voice outside saying, "It's unwelcomed, I think so."

"No, Nina," said Mustang. "Give them a minute."

I unlocked and opened the door before I could eavesdrop on any more of Mustang's disturbingly parental role. I opened the door just enough for me to gesture for Nina to back up so I didn't step on her when I came onto the front stoop. Her blue eyes got bigger as I came out and I wondered if she recognized me from last time. She hadn't grown in any noticeable way, really. I noticed her hair was a little longer; almost chin length now, like wispy black down-feathers swishing around her pale face. Her hair had been short like a boy's when I'd seen her three months back.

I left the door open just a crack behind me so I could listen out for Winry. I looked at our three guests, Nina looking bouncy like she'd just recovered from an afternoon nap, Mustang and Hawkeye looking exhausted, rumpled, and way too casually dressed. I hadn't realized Roy Mustang even owned a pair of shorts, but apparently so. His legs were even paler than the rest of him.

All three of them were staring right back at me like they were taking it in or something. Nina smiled with her little baby teeth and waved to me with her fingers. I gave her a smile right back.

"Hey, kiddo," I said. "Been a while."

"Okay," said Nina, coming closer to grab the knee of my trousers like taking my hand. "The house wants we should go in it now."

"Not yet," I said. I looked at the adults. "Winry's sleeping upstairs. Don't wake her up."

Mustang nodded. Hawkeye smiled and said, "Sure. Good to see you, Edward." I lowered my hand out to Nina and her little hand could only fit two of my fingers in its grip at once. I put a finger to my lips and she mimicked me instantly, making a shush sound.

"Good," I said. "Indoor voices, okay?"

Nina nodded.

I heard Mustang chuckle. "Funny coming from you."

Really? The first thing that came out of his mouth? Great.

I led Nina into the house, not bothering to react to Mustang's jab. Me having a temper was too exhausting for Winry to deal with while she was pregnant. Wasn't looking forward to Mustang realizing that. Somehow seemed emasculating. I'd been tamed by morning sickness.

"Lock the door behind you," I said over my shoulder. "And take your shoes off or Winry will threaten to clean the floors. I just barely talked her out of it this morning."

"You talk your wife out of cleaning?" said Mustang, bending down to help Nina take off her sandals.

"She's seven months pregnant, Roy," said Hawkeye like she expected it to register with the idiot.

"I love to do it by myself the last part," said Nina in a perfect whisper.

Mustang put on a fake surprised face. "You can finish all by yourself?"

Nina smiled like he was funny. She pulled off an unbuckled pink sandal and handed it to him. "See?"

"Oh my goodness," said Mustang, taking the shoe from her like he was Ling receiving a Philosopher's Stone. "What about the left one?" he said, pointing. "Can you do that one by yourself too?"

Nina nodded like they'd never done this before. She wriggled her foot to loosen it, whispering, "Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle," like she'd been taught to say that. Mustang and Hawkeye exchanged an amused glance as Nina got the shoe off and I felt a pang of jealousy looking at her.

"You guys get Al's old room," I said, nodding at the hall. "We switched his twin bed out with Granny's queen mattress after she passed away, so you should be good to go. The bathroom's right across. Make yourselves at home." I really didn't like saying that last part.

"Sure," said Hawkeye. "You and Winry don't use the queen?"

"We scooted Al's twin next to Winry's to make a double," I said. "Granny's hurt her back."

I heard Mustang asking Nina under his breath about her being thirsty. He asked again in her ear when she didn't reply. She didn't look at him. Her eyes darted to me then looked at the floor.

"It's okay," he said softly. "Uncle Ed won't mind."

I stiffened. "Uncle Ed?"

Mustang continued like I hadn't said anything. "He has a tap here. Just like at home."

Nina looked at her dad, her blue eyes wide and shiny. "I love to put that one in a cup maybe today." She was still whispering even with the rest of us just talking low.

Mustang smiled. "Go get your cup from Mommy." He stood while Hawkeye took over with Nina. "Sorry about that," he said to me. "It's been over three months and we still can't get her to tell us when she's thirsty."

"No biggy," I said. Actually, it seemed like a very biggy, just not my business.

Hawkeye filed into the kitchen with Nina right behind her. Mustang came beside me and spoke quieter than he had been.

"I need to ask, do you have anything to do with alchemy lying around?" He glanced into the kitchen where Hawkeye was handing Nina a sippy-cup. "She was used for alchemic research. We don't want to take chances. It could trigger something."

I looked toward the living room. "I've got some books next to the couch. We'll lock everything up in my study."

"Thanks."

"Not like I've been using it."

"Yeah." He put his hands in his pockets. He looked upset. Not ticked off or frustrated. Genuinely upset. "I was against bringing Nina out of Central," he said to me. "Last thing she needs is more change."

"Then why are you here?"

"Riza." His shoulders sank. He looked at me for a moment like he was deciding on saying something. He sighed. "Just Riza."

"You're preaching to the choir, Mustang."

He smiled thinly. "So I gathered."

The Mustang trio settled in their room for a while, Hawkeye going in and out organizing the bathroom with their stuff. I could hear her and Mustang's voices muffled and low as I skimmed the downstairs for anything alchemy related and bolted it up in my office with the rest of it. Every once in a while I'd hear Nina's tiny voice whispering. Pretty incredible for a kid her age to still be keeping up the whisper. Hawkeye said Nina only needed to be told once. She could fall asleep and wake up still obeying whatever orders she'd been given beforehand until someone let her off the hook. For a three year old little girl, it was sick what she'd probably had to go through to get that way.

I checked on Winry at half past. She'd been sleeping for almost three hours now. I wondered if I needed to wake her up so she'd be sleepy enough to fall asleep in the evening. She looked so peaceful there on the left side of our bed, the top half of her body gently rising and falling with her long breaths. Her face had finally smoothed out like she was really resting. The fact that she was still sleeping so deeply after that many hours made me realize just how much she'd needed the rest. I put my hand on her bare shoulder and patted her awake. It was almost painful having to disturb her.

Winry inhaled deeply and sighed the air out as she roused. Her eyelids blinked open slowly. I met her eyes as she focused them on me. She rolled over more onto her back but not all the way, her hand sliding over the comforter to rest on mine. She laced our fingers and smiled.

"You let me sleep through the Mustang's, didn't you?" she said, not even looking at the clock.

"Sorry," I said.

"I thought you might." She tightened her hand over mine. "Thanks."

"Wasn't as bad as I thought," I said. "You were right. Mustang really is wrapped up in that girl. Didn't bother paying much attention to being an asshole this time."

"Is she okay?" said Winry. "Nina, I mean."

"Yeah, they've got her figured out. They know how to handle her."

Winry nodded. "Good."

I stroked her matted hair. "You've been sleeping for almost three hours."

"Guess I need it."

"I wouldn't have gotten you up, but you won't be tired tonight if you keep sleeping."

"Yeah, I'll get up." I helped her prop herself against some pillows. She leaned back and yawned. "Still need to shave."

"Aw, Winry, tell me you're kidding."

"I feel gross when I'm prickly," she said.

"You're not gross."

"But I feel like it." She actually looked sad.

I sighed. I leaned on my knees and crawled over her to get to the floor. I tucked my arm behind her back and pulled the covers off her legs to tuck my other arm under the bend in her knees. She folded her arms around my neck and I lifted her off the bed and carried her toward the bathroom.

"You know I think you're beautiful," I said as I carried her through the door. "Would take a lot more than a tough baby to change that."

I felt her kiss my smooth cheek. She leaned her head on my collarbone. "Prickles still feel gross."

The way her legs felt rubbing the skin of my forearm as I held her reminded me of scratchy sandpaper. Not exactly comfortable, but her weight in my arms, her warmth against my body, the curve of her belly pressed against me and her wiry arms loose around my neck, felt too good for prickles to matter.

I bumped the toilet lid closed with my foot and set her there to undress. I locked the door behind us. Felt a little unnatural. Usually we left everything open in case we were in different rooms and she needed me or if maybe she needed to get from the bedroom to the toilet in the middle of the night to vomit and didn't have time to bother with doors. Winry had confided in me before bed the previous night that she wasn't sure she wanted Hawkeye seeing her naked. I was used to it, but to the untrained eye, Winry really did look freaky with her clothes off. Her gaunt frame and her too-small pregnant belly made her look like she was dying. We'd decided we'd actually start using locks while the Mustangs were over.

I sat there on the closed toilet while Winry took her time shaving her legs in the bathtub, the two of us talking and laughing, mostly about Alphonse and May for a while. Neither of us brought up singing to the baby or what had happened earlier before Winry had cried herself to sleep. Neither of us really had to. Not then.

Alphonse had done a good job of living an uncomplicated life since he'd gotten his body back and recovered enough to become active again. As far as May was concerned, she was active enough for both of them plus extra and she never turned off. Even when Winry and I would try having a serious conversation about them, it somehow ended with us cracking up at the idea of Al and May getting married and having a child that turned out like me. The genes were in there whether May would accept it or not. It was a possibility that I really wanted to see.

"Every chance I get I'm going to teach those nieces and nephews exactly what to do to tick their mom off." I laughed. "Even if they turn out like Al. I'll find a way to corrupt them."

Winry giggled. "Poor May. Why are you so mean to her?"

"She was mean to me first."

"She was twelve. You had cooties."

"Admit it," I said. "You like that I can't stand my brother's girlfriend."

"Never a dull moment," said Winry. "I'll leave it at that."

I looked at Winry's tummy peeking above the water. I thought briefly about how petite May was and I wondered what would've happened to Winry by then if she'd been built like that. I shook the thought off.

"I wonder how our kids will get along," said Winry. "Ours and Al's. We never really had much in the ways of extended family when we were growing up. It'll be interesting to see."

I nodded. I was thinking about me and Al again, about how much having a little brother had shaped me, about the strong possibility that Winry and I wouldn't be able to have another kid after this one.

"I guess it'll be like us when we were kids," I said. "Like having siblings with different parents. That's how I always thought of cousins."

"Except they won't be marrying each other at the end of the line."

"Who knows? Maybe that's a thing in Xing."

"Ew, Ed." She looked to the side and her mouth turned down. "I seriously hope not."

After we'd drained the tub and Winry had dressed, the two of us headed downstairs together, Winry holding tight to my arm for support as she stepped. It was eerily quiet. We'd been up there for nearly an hour. I wondered if Hawkeye and Mustang had crashed for a nap themselves.

"I should start dinner soon," said Winry. "Nina's little. She probably eats early."

"No," I said. "You've been too nauseous to even talk about food today. No way are you spending an hour over a stove cooking. You'll make yourself sick."

"I'm feeling better. The nap helped."

"Then _you_ try to eat. Jeez, Winry. Get your priorities straight." She was in guest mode already and she hadn't even seen the guests yet. "Think you can stomach something?"

"Can you make me a bowl of creamed corn?" she said. "With the sticks of butter and the block of cream cheese?"

I chuckled. "Anything for baby."

I sat her in the living room on the couch where she'd be comfortable and handed her an automail catalogue to drool over while I fixed her food. Creamed corn was one thing she let me prepare. I wasn't afraid to dump in calories and that made it taste better.

After I propped Winry's feet up for her I headed into the kitchen, considering making myself another sandwich while I was in there. I'd lost a little weight myself in the past couple months. My teenage metabolism still seemed to be going strong at twenty one and there were always more important things to do than to feed myself. I'd gotten used to the feeling of hunger, so it didn't exactly bother me and Winry had shrunk so much she hadn't seemed to notice I'd shrunk a little too. So not all that bad.

I paused in the kitchen doorway, my breath catching. There, across the tiled floor, was Mustang with his back to me, going through my fridge. I balled my fists and breathed, telling myself it wasn't a big deal. Maybe he'd go for the milk. That wouldn't be too bad. But then I saw his hand, the one that wasn't shuffling through my fridge, and it was holding the bag with the last of the deli meat. He was going for my sandwich!

"No," I said, entering the kitchen. "This can't happen. You. Get away from my food."

Mustang jumped in his skin. He turned around with a pant in his breath. "What the hell, Fullmetal! I could've dropped something."

"You shouldn't be holding anything!" I said. "What do you think you're doing? You're too old to be eating between meals."

He closed the fridge behind him with a frown. "I'm not that old." He kept my ham in his hand. I pointed.

"You're going to add to your muffin top," I said.

"I do not have a muffin top!"

I smiled. "Then why are you sensitive about it, huh, Colonel?"

"I was promoted to major general."

"Your name's still Colonel."

His eyes narrowed. "Oh, I see how it is."

"That'd be a first."

"Give me a break, would you?" he said, stepping over to the breadbox. "Traveling with children tends to throw things off. I haven't eaten since breakfast."

"Then make yourself some damn oatmeal," I said. I cut him off from the breadbox and snatched the bag of ham from his hand. "This is mine."

He stared at me, not exactly a glare. Actually, he looked kind of confused but in a frustrated way. "Oatmeal?"

I sighed harshly. "Never mind." I threw the ham onto the counter next to the bread and headed for the freezer for a bag of sweetcorn. "Eat my food. I never have time to eat anyway, so, why not?"

"What?"

I got to work dumping my ingredients into a saucepan and stirring over heat so it could melt together. Mustang watched me, just stood there letting my lunchmeat get room temperature on the counter.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Making Winry food. She hasn't downed anything all day."

He blinked at the fatty slop beginning to bubble in the saucepan. "You're making her eat that?"

"She asked for it," I said. "Don't question it. She's pregnant."

"Cravings?" he said.

"No joke."

"I noticed there were a lot of corn products in the fridge and pantry. I figured it was a seasonal thing this far out into the country."

"You idiot," I said. "Most of that stuff's brand made. We get our produce from markets. The grocery store imports the rest." Granted, the grocery store out here was pretty limited, but Mustang really was an idiot if he'd actually thought all that stuff had been manufactured in Risembool.

"So, is Winry up?" Mustang asked like a dumbass.

I shook my head. "No, she was talking in her sleep and she requested that 'dream Edward' make her creamed corn." I rolled my eyes. "Jeez, Mustang. You seriously thought she might still be asleep? Jerk. You would've woken her up anyway just talking too loud."

"Yeah, yeah. Excuse me for being a little out of it." He leaned back on the counter and reached over for the ham. "Parenting a three year old gets taxing after a four hour train ride, not that you'd know."

I gripped the wooden spoon harder than necessary as I stirred. Not that I'd know?

I lowered the heat under the corn as my skin turned to pins and needles all over. The back of my throat ached for a moment. I shot a look at Mustang, my eyes feeling hot in their sockets.

"I changed my mind," I said. "Put the ham away. You can eat oatmeal."

"What?" He looked at the ham like it was all its fault. "Why?"

I glared. "Because I said so."

Because he didn't know how good he had it.

* * *

**How replies to feedback work with me: So, I like replying to all my reviews individually at the bottom of updates, but since my fics have gotten more popular, I'm not always able to reply in as much detail as I'd like or even at all sometimes. No matter what, though, I read all the feedback I get with a smile and I don't want anyone feeling slighted because I slack off on replies every once in a while. It just means I was too tired or too busy at the time :)**

Replies:

SilverPedals1402: Yes! This is my first independent fic from Ed's POV, so I'm pretty freaking excited myself.

Eizion: Aw, thanks! I'm pumped to write more :D

justaislinn: Thanks, I appreciate it. You can bet I'll keep writing!

KTrevo: Yeah, I don't know if I'm capable of writing my OC's out of anything, even if different stories clash at some points.

Madamestang: 'Daddy Ed' is the best! Ed was born to make humans :P

mixmax300: Kind of. More like Maes coming into the world :)

AlchemistLeigh95: Great to be back! And thanks for appreciating the oatmeal XD

AzurEyes: Yes, I really had to include corn cameos. Couldn't resist XP

staypretty79: Ed's got kind of a love/hate/tolerate thing going on :P

"Guest": Keep your eyes peeled. I'll update soon! Probably!

SilastheHost: Thanks so much :D Getting characters written right is awesome!

**I'll update soon as I can! Give me some feedback so I know you're out there!**


	3. Help With the Nursery

**Author's Note: Yay! Another chapter finished! Thanks for all the feedback, guys. Encouragement counters writer's block, so it's much appreciated :)**

* * *

Chapter Three: Help With the Nursery

Mustang wouldn't stop gawking at Winry and I knew why. He hadn't seen it coming. It had been hard on me to see her wasting away day by day, but at least I'd been around to watch her emaciate in small doses. Mustang and Hawkeye were having it thrown in their faces all at once.

What was worse was Hawkeye hadn't seen it coming either. Mustang struggling with Winry's condition could've been blamed on his dumb ignorance of the situation, but I'd counted on Hawkeye to be prepared. I'd overheard Winry's phone calls to Central. She'd made it pretty clear how sick she'd been.

It was almost embarrassing the way Hawkeye's face flushed and her eyes shone too wet when she'd walked in on Winry picking at her bowl of creamed corn in the living room. Winry had given up on eating after she'd made it through a few bites and Hawkeye had offered to put what was left in the fridge for her. It had been a few minutes and Hawkeye still hadn't come back, so I figured she'd just been looking for an excuse to get out so she could have a breakdown without Winry seeing. The idea of calm, collected Riza Hawkeye excusing herself to have a breakdown didn't seem right to me, no matter how bad Winry looked.

Mustang sat in one of the embroidered armchairs facing the couch, staring at Winry's thinness in tense silence. Nina had made herself comfortable on the carpet in front of me and was playing with my metal foot. Being a skeleton herself, Nina seemed unfazed by Winry's bony body sitting beside me. I wiggled my automail toes for her every so often and she cracked up every time.

Winry giggled. "Uncle Ed's got a silly foot, huh Nina?" No one seemed to give a damn that I wasn't sure about that title.

Nina nodded. She looked up at me sheepishly and asked, "Maybe Nina has that one on my feet?"

I leaned forward to get more to her level. "No, you'd better keep the feet you were born with, kiddo. Trust me. Just borrow mine when you get bored. You're good the way you are."

Nina looked a little disappointed. "Okay."

"You're not in trouble," said Mustang from his chair. He hadn't spoken in a while.

"Why would she be in trouble?" I said. Nina's eyes were down like I'd just scolded her.

Mustang ignored me. "Metal feet are fun toys, but real feet are better for walking." He smiled at her in a warm way and continued gently. "And they're better for running faster and jumping higher." Nina met his eyes. He smiled bigger and she smiled a little bit too. "And they're better for getting tickled by Daddy."

Nina took the initiative. "And to dance with Mommy sometimes?"

Mustang nodded.

Nina giggled and stood up excitedly. "And to get in a bath with a soap on my foot?"

"Yes, that too," said Mustang, amused.

"Okay!" Nina sat back down and resumed tugging at my metal toes. Mustang resumed being quiet, but now in a peaceful way rather than tense. He watched his daughter now, not Winry. It was like Nina was the only one in the room with him.

Winry was watching Nina too. Actually, she was watching Nina and how lit-up Mustang's face was as he watched Nina. I knew what was going through her head. She was wishing she could be in Mustang's place, watching her baby play like he was watching his. I couldn't say anything out loud to her with company in the room, though. I put my arm around her shoulders and she followed by leaning into me in a purposeful way that felt like she was returning the comfort, not just receiving it. I figured she knew what was going through my head as well as I knew what was going through hers.

"I need to start dinner," she said.

"Winry," I said, "you're delusional."

She pressed her cheek against my shoulder. "I'm fine, Ed."

"Not around food you're not. You finally got something down a minute ago. Don't waste it."

Mustang was straightening in his chair. "Let Riza cook," he said to Winry. "She's here to help you, not for you to play hostess. She spent over an hour on the phone with Gracia Hughes yesterday talking about pre-natal diets or something."

Winry blinked. "Really?"

"She didn't have to do that," I said. She really didn't. Winry's pre-natal diet currently consisted of whatever the hell she could keep down at the time. Mostly corn products, oddly enough.

"This is important to her," said Mustang. The way he looked at us, both of us, seemed almost too sincere. "Let her spoil you, Winry."

Winry sniffed. It stood to reason she'd get emotional about something like this.

"Riza's such a sweetie," she said. "I just want to hug her."

Nina looked up at Winry with a frown, almost territorially. "I love to hug Mommy right now. Most ever."

I heard the floor creak and looked over to see Hawkeye crossing into the living room. "Mommy never runs out of hugs," she said with a smile.

Her eyes were still wet-looking but not red from crying like I'd thought they'd be. I guessed she'd teared up clearly enough, but not enough to set off a total meltdown, at least not one that showed. I wondered if she'd spent all that time away from us talking herself out of a breakdown rather than trying to hide one. It gave me a strange kind of respect for her.

Nina jumped up and ran over to her mom, arms out showing she wanted to be lifted. Hawkeye snatched her up and kissed her cheeks until Nina was giggling enough to lose her breath. Mustang was laughing too.

It was like watching Maes and Gracia Hughes coddling Elysia, except with Hughes it made sense. I supposed Hawkeye had been a tender enough person outside the Command Center, so I understood her being able to slip into being a mom. It actually suited her now that I saw it in action. Mustang, on the other hand, had been a professional bachelor who couldn't tell the difference between a child and an adult if his life depended on it. I could attest to that! So how the hell had he turned into this little girl's dad-of-the-year in a matter of months? What the hell had gotten him so good at it? How the hell had his life come together while mine was in pieces? He was trying to get along with me I realized and it pissed me off.

Hawkeye brought Nina around to the couch and sat on Winry's other side to collect that hug. I could tell by Hawkeye's tight expression as Winry put her arms around her that she was feeling the oddness in Winry's now bony hugs. With Winry's focus on someone else for the moment and Nina now entertained on her mother's lap with Winry's belly to touch, I took to my feet and said I was going to the bathroom.

I sat in the kitchen, staring at the clock. It was past five. I supposed dinner really was becoming a factor, though I'd kind of lost my appetite. It wasn't just Mustang's presence, as much as I would've liked to believe it was, though I was sure he must've contributed. Lately I'd tended to feel a little sick after an abnormally morbid day, a cross between how I'd felt after I'd found out about the insurrection in Lior and how I'd get after a nightmare about Nina Tucker. Not to mention I was exhausted. I hadn't had the benefit of a nap that afternoon and I'd been keeping as bad a sleep schedule as Winry lately, more like _with_ her. To top it off, my stump was aching and that probably meant a change in the weather, meaning I'd spend the rest of the evening uncomfortable and probably wouldn't feel like eating again until breakfast the next day.

I groaned, leaning my elbows on the kitchen table and cradling my face in my hands. This was going to be a long four weeks.

"Fullmetal?" Mustang said. I looked up as he came through the door. His brow furrowed. "What are you doing?"

I exhaled. "Great. Just the guy I wanted to see."

"Winry was worried," he said as he stopped in front of me. "She thought you might be feeling ill because of the clouds or something?"

"She knows better than that," I said, a little frustrated at her for sending Mustang out to check on me. "The port upgrade was over a year ago. My body's not that sensitive. Jeez. It's just a little sore."

Mustang still looked confused. "Clouds make your body sore?"

I rolled my eyes. "Go be stupid somewhere else."

He folded his arms. "What's got you?"

"Trust me," I said. "You don't want me to answer to that."

Mustang pulled out the wooden chair opposite to me and sat down. Not the reaction I'd been looking for. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Shouldn't you be telling my wife I'm alright?" I said.

He met my eyes, almost wounded looking. "You should've told me she was sick, Fullmetal." He breathed angrily. "Why didn't you tell me about Winry?"

I felt my body tense in my chair, muscle by stiff muscle. I looked at the tabletop. I'd let him run his ignorant mouth in the kitchen earlier while I'd been making Winry's corn. I'd just stood there, stirring, trying to talk myself down from reacting to his dumb comments. I could've just spat it out, told him he was an idiot for thinking Winry and I had asked Hawkeye for help for no big reason. I could've told him it ate at me that he was talking like there was nothing wrong and that he was acting like this really was a family vacation. But I'd just stood there and stuffed it because I'd wanted him to be caught unprepared when he got his first look at Winry. I'd wanted her appearance to stab him. I'd wanted it to hurt him. And it had.

"You're mad because I didn't warn you?" I said.

"Should I not be?" He had that wounded look again. "Riza was excited about this. You two could've at least warned her."

He was referring more to Winry now, like he thought she'd been holding out on the phone. I'd heard her tell Hawkeye she was sick plenty of times during their calls. Never in extreme detail, but Winry was living it. She didn't have to talk about it.

"Jeez, Mustang," I said, trying to sound less offended than I was. I scooted out of my chair to make a getaway. "This is my life right now. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about it. I'm not going to go out of my way to make you more comfortable with it."

I made for the door, but Mustang stood in my way. "Hey, hold on," he said. "I didn't ask to be accommodated. I'm just trying to get a handle on what's going on. I'm not here to give you a hard time." So why was he standing in my way?

There was something in his voice. Something about how reasonable he was being. It burned me, made my face feel hot like the anger in me was becoming tangible. I exhaled. "You saw my wife in there and now you're offering support, right?"

He was frowning but not in a cold way. "You say that like it's an abnormal reaction."

There was nothing cold about his eyes at all. His eyes were sincere. It made my eyes hurt to look at them, but I held my glare.

My voice came out low, beyond anger, just hate. "Go force your pity onto someone else, you bastard."

Mustang's eyes widened for a moment like I'd done something he hadn't expected. My blood throbbed in my fingertips and I wondered if it really was getting hotter inside me. I was feeling toxic, even to myself. It was actually getting to be too much. I tried to get around Mustang to make an exit. He blocked me off, went so far as to grab my shoulders and hold me where I stood. He locked onto my eyes and I felt sick. His gaze had lost the agitation and it had been replaced with raw concern. No, this wasn't how things were supposed to end up. Roy Mustang didn't get to be concerned about me.

I restrained myself from speaking loud enough to lose it. "Let," I said, "go."

"You aren't yourself," he said. His hold on my shoulders tightened without me even struggling first and that bothered me. "Something's wrong."

I felt myself chuckling. "Damn right something's wrong. I'd say that's pretty obvious." I fought his hold in a couple half-hearted tugs. He held on still and I realized I could've broken free if I'd tugged harder but I'd chosen not to. That thought made my breath falter a little and I felt a panic run through me.

"Just let me go," I said. I was trying to keep the bitterness in my voice, but even I could detect the pleading in it.

"Ed," he said. "There's something you're not telling me." His eyes hung on me. It wasn't just pity in them. It was personal fear. "Is she dying?"

I swallowed, clenching my teeth from saying anything. Mustang's hold on my shoulders tightened, but not to restrain me this time. It was kind of like he was giving me an indirect hug. I didn't like it. I went ahead and jerked away from him all the way, stumbling back. I stepped back too hard on my automail leg and it ached enough to make me wince for a moment. I stabilized, putting more weight on my right leg to compensate.

"Just shut up, okay?" I said. "Just because things worked out for you doesn't make me a charity case."

His brow wrinkled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Like you don't know!" I wasn't just hot in my face anymore. It was spreading throughout my body. It felt painful and I questioned if it was even anger I was feeling anymore.

"No, Ed, I don't know."

"All you ever cared about were your own goddamned ambitions!" My breaths felt like roars and I didn't know how to calm down. "You never even wanted a family and all it took was three lousy months out of Central for one to fall in your lap. You didn't have to lift a finger. It just came to you. You weren't even looking for it! I'd give every limb on my body for that! I'd give my life!"

Mustang looked like he was about to apologize for something. His face had paled too much. Not scared. Disturbed. He took a half-step toward me without seeming to realize he was doing it. I backed up from him. I'd punch him out before I let him comfort me. His face sank like he was ashamed.

"So," said Mustang. "She's really dying."

"They're both dying, you bastard!" I said. My breath was tight but I kept breathing it. "And I get to spend the next four weeks watching it happen and watching you live my life in the next room."

His eyes widened. "Ed?"

I closed my eyes from him, shook my head. "Don't talk like calling me Ed is going to fix something, because it won't. You're not here to be my friend, Mustang. No matter how you look at it."

"But I'm not here to be your enemy, either." His voice was heavy but calm. "And I'm not here to treat you like my subordinate again. Your name's not Fullmetal. And mine's not Colonel."

I opened my eyes at him. He was standing still, silent, leaving the next move up to me. I'd spilled everything out. My body was feeling less hot and my thoughts were clearing slowly. My breathing loosened. Mustang stepped back just a little like he was telling me I could leave if I wanted to.

"This is bigger than me," he said. "If watching us is that hard on you, I don't want to hang around for the sake of hanging around. I can take Nina back to Central. I think Riza will understand."

I looked toward the exit. I took a breath. It didn't feel good. I took another and it felt even worse. I wanted to tell Mustang to pack his bags. I even had some impulse to thank him for getting the hell out of my house. I clenched my teeth, trying to let go of the feeling of Winry's bony body trembling and sobbing in my arms. I tried to force the sounds from my head of me and Winry's voices singing, "You'll never know dear, how much we love you," and I tried to stop myself from putting the lyrics together and memorizing them, over and over. I tried to stop thinking about how the baby had felt as he'd moved under my hand and I tried to forget what it had felt like when he'd stopped.

"This isn't fair," I said. My voice was weak. "If Winry dies…" I closed my eyes. I couldn't even finish the thought.

Mustang spoke after I was silent for a while. "She's got two months to get stronger, right?"

I breathed. "What if the baby doesn't make it? He's so small and he's always tired. What if I lose him, or both of them? What if he stays sick? What if I lose her and I'm all he has left? And he's all I have left?"

Mustang had that look again, like I'd said something he hadn't expected. I'd never really admitted any of this before, not out loud. Winry had already known I was thinking it. I hadn't needed to say it. She'd had enough to worry about and just mentioning the baby in peril made her cry enough to make herself retch if I caught her at a bad time. If there wasn't anything to gain in bringing it up, then why bother?

"I don't know what," said Mustang. His voice was low and his eyes were heavy. "I wish I had something better to say."

I looked at him. He'd turned passive. He wasn't going to prod me or argue. He wasn't going to stop me from ending the conversation or just ditching him in the kitchen. It bothered me that I now had a choice in the matter. It bothered me that he'd given me the choice to kick him out of my house.

"Do you," I said with my eyes just barely meeting his. "Do you still transmute?"

He looked at me blankly.

I breathed. "I mean, around Nina. Can you do that, or will it trigger something?"

He blinked. "I limit it as best as I can." He talked like he didn't know how to answer me.

"What if she was in another room?" I said. "Like if she wasn't around. Then could you do stuff?"

He knit his brow. "I guess. Why? You need something done?"

"Yeah. Kind of." I put my hands in my pockets and looked at the ground. "I was supposed to be starting on a nursery weeks ago, but I've been busy taking care of Winry and it's not like she's been able to do anything."

"You want help building a nursery?"

"If you don't have anything better to do."

"Uh, sure." His voice kept that calm heaviness, but in a more pleasant way. "I didn't get to do that part."

I raised my eyebrows. That was right. Nina had already been three years old when they'd adopted her, old enough for a bedroom. She didn't get to have a nursery with a crib and the diapers and the bottles. The idea of Mustang up all night with a baby was actually pretty comical when put into perspective.

"Don't jinx yourself," I said. "I've heard Winry gushing on the phone back and forth and Hawkeye's not exactly opposed to the idea of another baby or two."

Mustang paused for a moment. He sighed, a smile making it across his face, the 'Ha, very funny," kind. A milder reaction than I usually would've gotten from him if things had been different.

"Let's just focus on the Elric nursery for now," he said.

I nodded and said quietly, "Famous last words."

I ended up telling Mustang a few details before we went back to the living room with the ladies. Supposed Winry would be telling Hawkeye anyway. May as well fill him in. He took it in, not saying much, letting me put it out there without interruption. I told him it had gotten bad the past couple months, that the baby should've been kicking regularly by now but it wasn't and most days Winry was as fragile emotionally as she was physically. Summed up, the doctor had said only time would tell at his past few visits. Winry and I spent our time taking it easy and waiting for her to get better because there wasn't much else we could do. I let Mustang know that there was a chance Winry had called Hawkeye just to have some company besides me. Things had been getting depressing with just the two of us sitting around the house letting our fears fester in our minds.

"I'm sorry," said Mustang at the end of it. "I wish there was something I could do." He said it like he really meant it but who wouldn't?

"That's a pretty common sentiment around here," I said. "Just watch what you say in front of Winry. It's tougher on her than anyone."

"Right."

"And Mustang?"

"Yeah?"

"You better watch what you eat outta my fridge, too. If you steal my food again, I will jam a corn cob through your trachea and dump your body in the lake."

He looked more bored than intimidated. "Right."

Winry spent the evening catching up with Hawkeye and listening to Nina recite the first seven letters of her ABCs over and over until my ears wanted to bleed. It freed me up to do stuff like taking out the trash and replacing the bulbs in the guest bathroom and above the stove. I'd usually been one to avoid chores like the plague, but the build-up had just gotten ridiculous over the past couple weeks. It had to be done.

Nina started acting tired around seven and Mustang told Hawkeye he'd get it. I didn't really realize what that had meant at first. I'd assumed he was going to take her to go to the bathroom, brush her teeth then stick her in her pajamas and tuck her into bed, which he did do. But he didn't come back when he was done. He stayed in the guest room and when I asked about it, Hawkeye told me he'd turned in. Nina would be terrified if she was left alone to sleep and she wouldn't let them know. A lot of their parenting currently revolved around figuring out when their daughter was struggling so they could do something about it while she tried to hide it.

"So, he just turns in at seven?" I said. "It's not even dark out."

"We rotate," said Hawkeye. "She's gotten better. She used to need both of us."

"Poor baby," said Winry.

"She's lucky," I said. "She's loved."

The women looked at me like they wanted to call me, 'poor baby,' and I realized I might've sounded too much like I was comparing Nina's childhood to mine. I sulked. No two lives were ever lived the same. People were idiots if they thought they could compare childhoods without being skewed.

Before bed, when Winry was just getting into her nightgown, I heard Nina's voice yelling and screaming from downstairs like she was throwing a tantrum. I stood in our bedroom doorway and listened to Mustang's voice mounting over hers saying, "Wake up, Nina. It's just a dream. Wake up!"

"Be still, baby. Be still," said Hawkeye.

It took a full two minutes at least before the screaming stopped and it disturbed me that it had taken that long for them to get her to come out of it. Then all I could hear was this pitiful whimpering in Nina's tiny little voice while Mustang and Hawkeye told her it was over, that she was safe, that they were right there and they were there to stay. I waited a few minutes for the whimpering to stop, for their soothing words to stop, but it just kept going like it could go for hours.

"Come on, Ed," Winry said from the bed. I looked over and she had her hand out beckoning me. "This is their life now. We don't need to listen in."

I shut our door. I sat down on the bed next to her and ran my hand over my face tiredly. "Poor baby," I said.

"Yeah," said Winry.

I scooted under the covers and put my arm out for Winry to huddle next to me. She settled at my side and tucked her head against my jaw. I felt her body breathing slowly and peacefully. I rested my hand on her tummy.

"You are my sunshine," I sang softly, "my only sunshine."

It had been a shot it the dark, but it had been hours since his last kicks the baby had regained enough strength to kick for us again. Winry placed her hand next to mine and smiled as the baby moved softly like the song.

"Looks like we've got a hit," she said.

She sang the rest with me and even managed to get through the last lyrics this time. The baby kept moving after that last depressing line, shifting under our hands and letting us know he was still there. I heard Winry sniffle. She beamed up at me. "Thank you, Ed." I hugged her in my arms contentedly as the baby went back to resting inside her.

"Know what's weird?" I said. "That was only my third time feeling him, but he probably feels me every time I touch you. He's already memorized the sound of our voices. That's why he likes it when we sing to him. He feels us holding him between us and hears our voices together and he knows we're there. Like how Nina feels safer sleeping between Mustang and Hawkeye."

"I bet you're right," said Winry.

"We should do this more," I said. "Every night. Even when he's too tired to kick for us, he's still there and he can still feel us."

I felt the warm wetness trickle from Winry's eyes and onto my neck. I didn't really know how to react at first. She was leaning on me at an angle where I couldn't see her expression, so I couldn't see if she was still crying happy tears or if I'd triggered another before-bed breakdown.

She sniffed. "Ed, how are you doing this?"

I wasn't sure how to respond. I racked my brain for harmless words. "Uh, could you be a little more specific?"

"How are you getting through this?" she said. Oh. That kind of 'how are you doing this.' "I mean, me and the baby could die," she said. "You haven't even cried about it."

"I've gotten upset about it in my own ways. You've seen me."

She latched onto my shirt like a security blanket. "But you're so alone."

"You make me sound pretty pathetic."

I held her close and she buried her damp face in my shoulder. I pet the back of her hair, soothing her silent tears. The room seemed quieter. Just the sound of us breathing wearily against each other.

"You act alone," Winry said. "Even with me you act like you're alone."

"I know," I said. "It's scary."

She wasn't really talking about me acting like she wasn't there as much as she was saying I'd been grieving for her and the baby like they were as good as gone. I had been. I'd been stuck in that place.

"Hopelessness doesn't suit you, Ed," she said. "It never has."

"I'll second that." I breathed. I sighed. "Mustang's going to give me a hand with Junior's nursery while he's here."

Winry pulled away from my shoulder enough to look at me. She blinked at me with her wet blue eyes, still dewy with undried tears. "Are you serious?"

"Why would I joke?"

Her face brightened a little and she gave me a soft smile. "That's good to hear, Ed."

I chuckled. "Yeah, well, I've put it off too long as it is. I don't plan on telling him, but I kind of need help at this point if I'm going to finish on time."

"Yeah," she said. "You're pretty bad with a hammer, Ed. I wouldn't trust you to do it on your own."

I frowned. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"As long as it gets done," she said.

"Whatever."

I reached over to my nightstand and flicked off the bedside lamp next to me. Winry took the cue and turned hers out too. I sighed, shifting under the covers with her to get more comfortable. I told her she should get some sleep, mostly because I needed to get some sleep if I wanted to keep up with her tomorrow. I hadn't had a three hour nap that afternoon like she had.

Winry settled in my arms for the night. Usually she went to her side when she was ready to sleep and tossed and turned until she found a semi-comfortable position for her pregnant body to stay in. I didn't question her choosing to stay in my arms this time. As bony and weird as she felt, I was more comfortable like this than without her anyway. I listened to her peaceful breathing and I wondered if she'd fallen asleep already. Then I felt her hand patting my chest and she said, "There's something I've been wondering about."

"Okay," I said. "What is it?"

She let out a long breath. "Did you put off doing the nursery because," she paused, "because it'll be empty if the baby doesn't make it?"

My chin brushed her head as I nodded in the silence.

"What changed your mind?" Winry asked. "Did Roy say something?"

"Not really," I said. "It'll give him something useful to do while he's here, though."

Winry chuckled because she knew I was bullshitting. "Really, Ed."

"I don't know," I said. "You've been fighting for the baby with everything you've got. I may as well do the same. I'm not showing much faith in the little guy if he's born and I don't have a place ready for him to sleep."

"Good point," said Winry, a smile in her voice.

"Besides," I said. I curled my arms around her and closed my eyes. "He's my baby. Doesn't matter how long he makes it. He's alive now. If he dies, I don't want it to be like he was never here." I opened my eyes into the darkness. "I don't want to live my life saying I was _almost_ a father. As far as this baby is concerned, I already am one."

* * *

**Come on, baby! You can make it! Just eight more weeks and you're golden!**

Replies:

Madamestang: I see comical fanart portraying Ed and Winry as happy expectant parents and I'm like, "Dang, making this fic a drama really turned that concept upside down."

SilverPedals1402: Thanks! I've never done a fic quite like this one before. It's really fun!

AzurEyes: Yep, I like to think of it as Nina's speech was manufactured in a laboratory along with everything else :P

Apple Jack: I LOVE writing Ed-outbursts! But this fic is more of a drama, so it doesn't fit for me to write them as freely as I do in my other stuff :( As for Al and May? That's just personal preference on my part. Can't help you there :P

mixmax300: I'm hoping to perk the story up a bit now that Ed's confronted the angst that was getting in the way.

KTrevo: "Poor-Nina-won't-remember-any-of-this."

Rumia: Thank you! Ed's sarcastic POV works so well for this story. Any other character's take on the situation would probably just sound whiny and depressing.

PhantomhiveHost: Bwahaha! Yes. My sister and I said from the beginning of FL. Winry would've eaten nothing but corn during her pregnancy with Maes.

AllINoIsImNotAwesome: OH MY GOSH! I'M PRETTY DANG EXCITED TOO! AND CAPS LOCK IS ACTUALLY REALLY FUN NOW THAT I'M TRYING IT!

**For those of you interested, the first few comic pages of the second chapter of 'Drastic Measures' will be posted on deviantart soon. Link on profile.**


	4. The Art of Bouncing Back

**Author's Note: Bwahaha! Chapter four is locked and ready to go! Thanks for the feedback. Kept me going strong :D**

* * *

Chapter Four: The Art of Bouncing Back

"Not like that, you idiot!" I said, stepping back from the unevenly laid carpet. "You're doing it all wrong. Start over."

To be honest, I was enjoying giving Mustang instruction way too much. As an alchemist in general, there was no pretending he wasn't in a class of his own, but when it came to setting the carpet with a clap of his hands, he was a total loser at it. Of course, it didn't help his case that most of the instructions I was giving him were impossible to follow. He didn't need to know that, though.

I pointed across the barren nursery to where Mustang had messed up on the back wall again. "You need to tuck the fibers into that corner back there. If it's not set right, it'll mold."

Mustang sighed harshly as he stepped up to the crookedly positioned corner. "You told me five minutes ago that I wasn't allowed to thin out the material or the carpet would wear out faster in patches."

"I didn't say thin it out," I said, folding my arms obstinately. "I said to tuck the fibers in."

"So they line up with the wall?"

"Yes."

"That's the same as thinning it out!"

I looked at my empty hands in front of me. "I swear. Alchemy is wasted on some people."

"Damn it, Fullmetal!" Mustang clapped his hands together and slapped them onto the crooked edge of the carpet. I watched as the pastel yellow fibers knit perfectly across the gap and set snuggly next to the wall. "There!" said Mustang, standing. He gestured to the uniformly laid corner. "You happy now?"

"Looks okay, I guess."

He sank in his shoes.

I looked back at the corner. "But Mustang?"

"Yeah? What now?"

"You thinned it out."

"Good enough!" He breathed like there may as well have been smoke blowing out of his nose.

I shook my head. "No. Start over. You messed it up."

"You're kidding."

"You want my kid to spend the first few years of his life on a patchy carpet?"

Mustang leaned against the wall. "Hadn't realized you and Winry planned on putting your kid in the corner enough for it to come to that."

"Are you being smart with me?"

Mustang sighed. I was going to add something, but the familiar sound of the house's plumbing system activating rumbled softly in the background and I paused. Mustang didn't seem to notice it. He just glowered and made some kind of displeased remark. I didn't pay attention. Just watched his lips move. I listened to the pipes recovering, that draining sound. A stillness. Then the rumbling started again. Someone was flushing the toilet repeatedly. Winry was sick again. Second time today. It'd been days since she'd had it this bad.

"Take a break," I said. I came to the wall and sank down, leaning my back against it. Mustang watched me with a blank look of disbelief.

"What, seriously?" he said. "If you're that upset about it…"

I stared forward and put my finger to my lips, shushing him. I listened for the toilet to flush again, hoping it wouldn't. Hoping it would stop there. A minute passed. The pipes rumbled again. I winced. Mustang sank beside me silently. His expression had tightened with that concerned look I'd gotten used to over the past week.

"You can go up and check on her," he said. He'd caught on to why I'd paused.

I shook my head. No point in crowding her in the bathroom with Hawkeye already taking care of her.

"You sure?" he asked.

I nodded.

He sighed. "You're just going to sit here and worry?" He said it like he knew the answer and he didn't like it.

I nodded.

Mustang leaned his head back against the wall. I stared forward listening to the house's plumbing system. Mustang was quiet for a while. I looked over at him and his eyes were closed. Figured he'd nap during his break.

Nina had woken up four times in the night. I'd heard her. She'd been clingy with Hawkeye all morning and finally conked out in our bed after lunch as Winry tried to nap off the morning sickness. I couldn't blame Mustang for being exhausted. Nina tended to want her mom off and on during the day, but, according to Hawkeye, Nina counted on her dad to chase off the nightmares during the night.

I leaned my head back too. I couldn't see myself falling asleep with what was going on, but I was tired. Not so much sleep deprivation as emotional exhaustion. I listened to the toilet flushing again and I caught myself clenching my teeth. I reminded myself of someone trying to muffle a scream so they wouldn't disturb the beast.

"Ed," said Mustang.

I shivered in my skin. "I thought you were asleep!"

"If only." He yawned.

"Idiot," I said. I folded my arms. "You can go get a nap. I said take a break."

"I'm fine," he said. He ran his hand down his face like he was trying to wipe off the 'sleepy.'

"I don't want you doing a half-assed job because you're tired."

"I'm fine." He looked at me. "I'm a general in the Amestrian military and a father of a three year old. I'm actually pretty high functioning while sleep deprived."

I decided not to press it. "Whatever. Just don't be whining later."

I thought I heard him say, "No promises," under his breath, but I chose to ignore it. I was more worried about what was going on upstairs. Like always.

The pipes hadn't rumbled in a while. That was good. Maybe Hawkeye was getting Winry back to bed by now. For a moment I wanted to go up and put a bucket by Winry's side of the bed so she wouldn't have to run to the toilet every time she felt sick, but since Hawkeye hadn't seemed to have done it yet, I figured Winry was probably at the point where the smell of her own vomit was enough to make her sick again. Keeping it to the bathroom was her only defense on that front.

"Ed," said Mustang.

I turned to look at him, a little annoyed. "What?"

I paused. He wasn't meeting my eyes. Not even trying. He was looking at his knees. His face seemed unstable, but not with the usual concerned look or the occasional sympathetic one. His eyes were down like an abused dog. He had his hands passively folded on his lap, his body lazy and still. I repeated myself, this time a little less abrasively.

"What?" I said. I waited for him to look up, but he kept his eyes down. "Problem, Mustang?"

"I need a favor," he said. He was quiet for a moment and I got the feeling that I wasn't supposed to fill the silence. Finally, he met my eyes. It struck me a little. He didn't exactly seem gloomy or apologetic like the usual signs, but something about his eyes just screamed shame. He spoke plainly, "I need Winry to ask Riza for another visit once you two get back to Risembool with the baby."

I blinked. Was that all? I wrinkled my brow. "Hawkeye's using up all her vacation days this visit."

Mustang smiled thinly. "I'm sure her boss will understand."

He was being vague. I narrowed my eyes at him. "I thought the women already conspired about that. I'm supposed to bring Winry and the baby to Central as soon as they're good and healthy."

Mustang shook his head. "No. Have Winry invite her before that. As soon as you're home from Dublith."

"That's when my brother and his girlfriend are getting in from Xing."

Mustang got this pained look that resembled frustration but with no irritability. "Just for a few days, Edward. That's all I'm asking."

"Um," There were a lot of reasons why what Mustang was asking for wasn't going to work with our current plans and the basicness of his request in general just didn't make any sense to me, but the way he was asking was disturbingly sincere. I nodded. "Sure. I'll see what I can do."

Mustang let out an easy breath. He said, "Appreciate it," then he looked across the room at the white wall and said, "I think it would save a lot of time if we just used paint."

"Sure it would," I said. "But Winry picked out that wallpaper five months ago. It's not her fault you can't transmute straight worth a damn."

"It's not my fault I didn't make my alchemic focus interior decorating!"

"You're such a pansy."

He raised his eyebrows. "Says the guy who used to transmute outfits."

"Outfits?" I frowned. "You mean my coat? That was damn sharp and you know it!"

"Hard to miss. I'll give it that."

"You're just jealous." I rolled my eyes to the side and grumbled, "Useless when wet. Understatement if I ever heard one."

"Edward!" called Hawkeye. She was upstairs with Winry still. "Can you come give me a hand when you get a second?"

I jumped up and bolted to the bottom of the stairs, shouting, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Never mind!" called Hawkeye. "I found it!"

My legs shook under me. I leaned forward to grip the end of the railing, shoulders sinking, head hanging heavy. I let out a breath. My heart was pounding. "Don't," I said, too quiet for Hawkeye to have heard, "scare me like that."

"Everything okay?" Mustang said as he came beside me.

I heard the toilet flushing from upstairs and I flinched. "She shouldn't have eaten all that corn chowder before bed. I told her this would happen. And then she had half a bag of corn chips at lunch because her stomach was empty from vomiting all morning. She would've eaten more if Hawkeye hadn't confiscated it."

"She was able to keep her dinner down almost 'til morning, right?" said Mustang. "That's long enough for her body to have digested at least some of it. Not a total loss."

"Guess not."

"Better than if she hadn't eaten at all."

I sighed. "You're right." I straightened, directing my gaze back to the nursery-in-progress. "May as well get back to work."

Mustang nodded. Didn't even make a comment on how he had been the only one actually doing any work. I got that he was walking on thin ice here, but sometimes I wished he'd just go ahead and give me a hard time without me giving him a hard time first. Something about him being considerate just didn't seem right to me. I was okay with him doing it with his family, I guessed, and maybe with Winry, but it was unsettling when he did it to me.

Well, I had him bitching again soon enough. All it took was me telling him I needed help laying out the tarp so he could do the wallpaper as soon as it got in.

"A tarp?" he said.

"Yeah," I said. "I don't want you getting glue on my kid's carpet when you're doing the wallpaper."

Mustang frowned. "Why the hell didn't we do the wallpaper before you had me lay the carpet?"

I folded my arms. "Because the wallpaper won't get in until Monday, genius. The shop we ordered from doesn't do business on weekends."

"Why don't we just lay it manually?"

"Because that's too messy."

"Doing it with alchemy is practically impossible. It's wallpaper!"

"Point?"

Mustang pinched the bridge of his nose. "Transmuting is by definition the deconstruction and reconstruction of matter."

"Yes."

"And you won't let me alter any of the materials when I'm 'transmuting' them into place."

"Nope."

"So what am I transmuting?" he said. "The glue?"

"Nothing I couldn't've done," I lied. I fought a smirk. He was figuring it out. How the reason he sucked at achieving the results I was asking for was because those results were impossible to achieve through my given instructions.

"Damn it, Fullmetal!" he said. "Every new instruction you give me contradicts the last one!"

Yep. I touched my chin. "Know what, Mustang?"

"What?"

"You call me by my State Alchemist title when you're pissed off at me just like how my mom used to call me by my full name when she'd scold me." I shook my head contemplatively. "Don't do that. It's creepy."

Mustang groaned. "Let's just use paint."

"Winry likes the farm print wallpaper. We're using the farm print wallpaper."

"Roy!" Hawkeye called, her voice sharp. "Roy, get up here! Nina's waking up from a bad one!"

I watched Mustang's slanted eyes widen, the blood drain from his face to leave him a sallow kind of pale. A shudder went through him as Nina's whimpers became audible and snapped him out of something. He darted from the room and out of sight. I could hear his shoes stamping clumsily up the steps with no regard to anything but getting to the top. Nina's little voice shrieked over the creak of his footsteps. Soon I could hear Mustang telling her to wake up, the same routine I heard him go through every night. Nina screamed louder and Mustang and Hawkeye's voices mounted over hers.

"Nina, it's not real!" Mustang said urgently.

Her shrieking only got louder, belting it out. It sounded kind of like her cries were forming the word, "Papa." Maybe she was just starting to sob and it made her screams warp. But she wasn't waking up.

I remembered the pale, wide-eyed look on Mustang's face just before he'd darted out of the room. I'd heard Nina go through nightmares every night that week, but I'd never felt so _close_ to one. I heard Mustang's voice get desperate, pleading for her to wake up. I thought about that look on his face, the stillness when he'd heard her whimpering upstairs, like he was moving so fast in his mind that his body had frozen. Like a deer in the headlights but one that had walked into the road knowing something was coming to plow him over. Just waiting for it, dreading it, but knowing it was where he needed to be. Suddenly I felt small and too young.

Nina's screaming cut off to a perfect silence in which I heard Mustang say, "Hey, it's over. You're safe, little girl."

Her voice broke into squeaky sobs and I could hear Hawkeye's voice muttering soothing words over her. I just stood there, standing in my shoes with my hands in my pockets, watching the wall and listening to the chaos upstairs. I listened for Winry's voice. I wondered if she needed me. The toilet hadn't flushed in a while. That was a good sign.

I jolted in my skin at the sound of the stairs creaking under Mustang's shoes again, Nina's broken cries closer and clearer as she came down with him.

"This is Uncle Ed and Aunt Winry's house, remember?" Mustang said softly. "We like it here. They've got a bigger backyard than we do at the apartment."

Nina didn't make any kind of response that I could hear. Just kept crying. I shuffled into the doorway and caught Mustang's eye as he stepped into the hall. Nina was clinging to him like she was knit into his shirt.

"What can I do?" I said.

"Get a bath going?" said Mustang, looking across the hall at the downstairs bathroom. "Cold. Only enough hot water to take the edge off."

"She have a fever?" I asked. Winry couldn't be around anything contagious.

"No," said Mustang simply. He didn't offer anything else. I took the hint and went to draw the bath without another word. Nina stayed trembling in his arms.

"How high do you want it?" I asked from the bathroom floor as Mustang knelt behind me with Nina. "Halfway?"

"Just a couple inches," said Mustang.

I wrinkled my brow. "Inches?"

Mustang nodded, patting Nina's little back. "Yeah, go figure. Kids aren't supposed to be put in full bathtubs until they're four or five years old. You can't leave them alone until they're six or seven."

"What, you sure?" I cranked on the cold water and eased on a trickle of hot. "Some kind of a drowning hazard?"

Mustang shrugged. "Better safe than sorry."

I looked down at Nina's tiny body shivering in her father's arms, stuck in silent tears. "That's a very fair point," I said.

Mustang hugged his arms around Nina, steadying her against him. "I'd say so." He looked at me. "Hey, Ed?"

"Mm?"

"You should go." He gazed down at Nina. "You don't want to see this."

I waited outside the closed door, listening to Nina cry and protest as her father tried to pry her off of his lap, tried to convince her she'd feel better if she just gave the water a chance. Hearing her tear-filled pleas from the other side, I was tempted to knock on the door and tell Mustang to leave her be and let her calm down in his arms. But he knew what he was doing. He definitely knew better than I did. I thought about going up to check in on Winry. Things had been quiet upstairs for a while.

"See, that's better," said Mustang. "That feels better."

"It goes away now.

"You're not on fire, Nina."

I heard the water splash a little as Nina shifted in it. I heard her sniffle. "That one should go on my hair now, please," she said. The water sloshed and trickled as Mustang helped her cover herself in it.

"See?" he said. "All gone."

"All gone," she repeated after him shakily.

"Just a dream," he said.

"Dream," she said. He voice broke. "That one likes to cook Nina."

"No, Nina." Mustang breathed. "Daddy doesn't let that happen anymore."

Part of me felt like I shouldn't have been hearing this. Part of me felt like Mustang had wanted me to. Nevertheless, I'd heard enough. More important, I'd heard what sounded like Winry moaning from upstairs. So that was where I went.

I crossed into our room and entered to find Winry curled up on my side of the bed with Hawkeye sitting at the edge weeping quietly into her hand. Winry had her hand over Hawkeye's and was petting it soothingly, watching her with heavy concern. Winry looked bad, definitely as sick as I'd imagined she'd be. Her hair seemed damp and stringy around her face from sweating and the rest of her hair was stiff and matted where sweat from before had dried. Her eyes turned sluggishly in their sockets to focus on me. She smiled faintly.

"Couldn't stand it?" she said.

"They don't need me down there," I said. Hawkeye had her face turned away from me, obviously making an attempt to erase the beginnings of a breakdown.

"Wasn't talking about Nina," said Winry.

I felt my face frowning. I crossed the room, saying, "Dummy. Neither was I." I kicked off my shoes and climbed over Winry to sit beside her against her pillows. I put my heavy hand on her brittle shoulder and rubbed her arm. Her body trembled weakly like I'd tickled her. "Jeez. You haven't been having an easy time of it."

She moaned. "Shouldn't have had all those chips." She made a face like just hearing herself talk about it made her feel sick all over again. "Want a bath so bad."

"You need to take it easy," said Hawkeye in her calm way. She smiled slightly, recovered. She swapped her hand over Winry's. "One adventure at a time."

I looked at Hawkeye gratefully. "You tell her, Lieutenant."

"Roy's a _major_ general," said Winry. "Riza's not a lieutenant anymore, Ed."

I rolled my eyes. "Roy's a _major_ pain in the ass. Don't lecture me about military terms, Winry. I know who I'm talking to."

Hawkeye chuckled. Winry's face smiled. "Aw, you called him Roy," she said.

I frowned. "I called him a pain in the ass."

"What's the difference?" Hawkeye said with an amused smile. She met my eyes, shoulders sinking. "I heard the water running for a while downstairs. He had to put her in the tub?"

"Guess so," I said. "Didn't really stick around. He told me I wouldn't want to see."

"I'm not surprised," said Hawkeye. "The scars are pretty bad. It's hard to look at."

"I can imagine," I said. I felt Winry's eyes on me and I realized I'd relocated my hand to her tummy. I looked at Hawkeye. "Sorry you have to deal with that."

I meant it. Hawkeye's face told me she knew I'd meant it.

"I wish I could deal with more of it for her," said Hawkeye. Her eyes had become distant. Looking at the pink blotches around her eyes where she'd begun to cry earlier, I realized her wishing to suffer in Nina's place was likely a vast understatement. "It falls on Nina's shoulders," she said. "There's nothing that can change that fact."

"No," I said. My eyes drifted. "That's not true. She's loved. That changes everything."

I felt Winry's hand over mine on her tummy, her fingers lacing with mine tightly. I met Hawkeye's gaze. She was looking less composed, but not necessarily in a bad way. Her eyes had a sparkle to them that reminded me vaguely of how my mom used to look at me when she'd talk about my dad. I looked down at Winry. She had her eyes resting on our joined hands, a soft smile on her mouth bringing new color to her drained face. I tightened my fingers with hers.

"You worry too much, Hawkeye," I said. "Nina was born into a living nightmare. You and that bastard gave her a world where she could wake up and say it was just a bad dream. That's not nothing. You underestimate the power of having a hand to hold in the dark."

I heard her sniff. I wondered if she'd started crying again, but her voice came out smooth.

"Hard to believe," she said, "this is the little boy with the dead eyes I met downstairs ten years ago."

I bristled. "Don't call me little."

I felt Winry's body laughing under my hand. Hawkeye was laughing too. I felt my mouth turn down. I rubbed Winry's tummy, choosing to focus my attention on the baby.

"Don't worry, big guy," I said to Winry's stomach. "Just be patient. You'll be even taller than Daddy someday. I guarantee it."

Winry patted her tummy with me. "Just as long as you drink your milk like a good boy."

"Don't listen to Mommy," I said in a mock whisper. "Daddy never drank his milk and now he's over six foot." I loved saying that last part.

Winry raised her eyebrows. "Yeah, but he didn't get past five foot until he was sixteen years old."

"Hey!" I said. "That's a stretch and you know it! I was five four when my growth spurt took off."

"With your platform boots on, maybe," said Winry.

"Shut up!"

Hawkeye chuckled. "You two. What are you going to do if the baby turns out to be a girl?"

Winry blinked. I shrugged and said, "We'll call her 'him' on accident for the first week or so and it'll be funny as hell, I guess."

Winry rolled her eyes. "At least the height thing wouldn't be as much of an issue."

"Why do you do that?" I pouted.

"Do you have any names picked out?" said Hawkeye. "Winry said you were still fixed on Edward Junior for a boy and Edwina for a girl, huh, Ed?"

I sighed contentedly. "Classic."

"Those would just confuse people," said Winry. "The world barely has room for one Edward Elric as it is."

"Couldn't agree more," said Mustang. He was standing in the doorway with Nina cradled in his warm-looking arms. She was back in her clothes with her hair still damp and her head leaning on his shoulder. I sighed. I'd left the door wide open out of habit again. Figured he'd invite himself in.

Hawkeye stood and Mustang came across the room to let Nina crawl timidly into her mother's arms. Hawkeye held her like a baby and said, "All better?"

Nina nodded. "Daddy gave me a water on my head."

Hawkeye looked at Mustang knowingly. "Daddy's a smart guy."

"Uh huh," said Nina.

Mustang looked at me. We both knew it was the perfect opening for me to make a jab, but I didn't say anything. It just felt wrong to make fun of him with Nina there. I could tell it meant a lot to her, to all three of them, that Mustang be someone she could depend on. I'd insult his intelligence later.

Winry's breaths had become softer. I looked at her eyelids blinking in that heavy way.

"You're spent," I said. I rubbed her stomach. "Try to drink a little water before you fall asleep?"

"Maybe," she said.

"Just a spoon."

"Alright." She smiled tiredly up at me. "Sounds manageable."

"No more than that or you'll make yourself sick," I warned.

"Yeah, yeah," she said. "I know the drill."

"Yeah, yeah," I said. "I know you know."

I looked up at Hawkeye who was now kissing Nina's smiling face. Mustang tickled her baby feet and she giggled. I couldn't help but want to smile a little myself. Nina had bounced back like she always did. I had to give Mustang and Hawkeye some credit. They were safe people and their comfort wasn't hollow. Nina had reason to smile and she seemed to know she did.

"Go be parental somewhere else," I said, wagging my hand at them. "You're going to make Winry nauseous."

Winry glared at me. "No they will not."

I looked at Mustang, hardly impressed. "Forget the tarp. I'm tired of you. Go do something with your family. Winry needs her rest."

"You should consider a nap too," said Mustang. "You get cranky when you miss out on sleep."

"Ed's always cranky," said Winry. "Sleep or no sleep."

I sulked. "Thank you so much for the support, dear."

Hawkeye was asking Nina if she wanted to go play outside and Nina was getting excited at the idea.

"Go see my sheeps?" Nina said.

"We can do that," said Mustang, ruffling her damp hair. "And the cows and the lake…"

Hawkeye cut him off. "Let's pace ourselves, Roy," she said. She gave Nina a bright smile. "Let's go see the sheepies, huh?"

Nina nodded. "I love to ride that one on the fluffy part."

Winry swatted my hand when I snorted at that.

"We'll try _watching_ the sheep for today," said Mustang. He was smiling as he followed his wife and daughter out of the room, smiling like I wasn't there to judge. I remembered Hawkeye's guarded tears when I'd first come into the bedroom. Nina hadn't been the only one who'd had to bounce back from the nightmare.

"Have fun," said Winry.

Hawkeye looked over her shoulder and said, "You try to take it easy."

Winry yawned. "No problem with that."

Nina waved her fingers at us and we waved back. Mustang paused in the doorway as the others continued down the hall. He had his hands in his pockets, his stance more casual than I'd grown accustomed to under his command five years back. He met my eyes after a moment, his stare as genuine as if he were looking at Nina.

"Thank you," he said.

I kept my hand on Winry's belly. "For what?"

"For kicking us out," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "You say that like it's not what I wanted."

"Sure," he said. "But that's not why you did it."

"What, you read minds now?"

He smirked.

"Go be creepy somewhere else," I said.

He left to join his family and it wasn't long before I heard Nina's voice laughing and narrating loudly as she put on her shoes for him.

"Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle," she said.

"All by yourself?" Mustang said.

I slumped down next to Winry and kissed her neck. "Tired," she said.

"Yep," I said. "I need to get some water in you, huh?"

She nodded.

"Know what?" I said.

"Mm?"

I leaned over her enough to meet her droopy eyes. "People aren't supposed to fill the bathtub past a few inches for kids under four; otherwise it's a drowning hazard." I sighed. "I always imagined giving our kids giant bubble baths with the water spilling over every time they waded across the tub. But no. Just a few inches and a wash cloth. Bummer."

"Did Roy teach you that?" Winry asked, a bit intrigued.

I laid back, broke eye contact. "Kind of, I guess. More like an observation I made."

Winry chuckled. "Ah, I see." She rolled over to face me. "Incredible, isn't it? They've only had Nina for a few months and they already talk like experts."

"They had to learn fast. They had no choice," I said.

"They'll give good advice," said Winry. She set her hand on her tummy. "God knows we'll need it."

I touched her hand. "We'll learn fast too. You can bet we'll have plenty of help; more than we know what to do with, knowing Teacher."

"You better get used to the idea of the Mustang's being part of that help," she said. She smiled. "And you know we'll be helping them out too before you know it. They don't plan on stopping at Nina."

I sank into the mattress. "I'm not really sure that's our business, Winry."

"It's not like that." She looked a little hurt. She traced little circles in the sheets with her finger. "I like the idea of our kids being friends with our friends' kids. It's not a bad thought."

"Guess not," I said. "As long as they don't end up marrying each other."

"I'm sure Roy would feel the same," said Winry with a laugh. "He doesn't want Nina marrying anyone."

"Yeah, but that's not saying much. You and the Lieutenant have a way of getting around us."

I just barely got Winry hydrated before she conked out. Hadn't even had time to position her pillows around her body and between her knees to keep her back from hurting. I lay down next to her and took her hand. She was sleeping too deeply for my touch to stir her. I smiled at the drool seeping onto her pillow under her cheek then I frowned remembering she was on my side of the bed and that was my pillow she was slobbering on.

"That wallpaper you picked out is so ugly," I whispered. "On top of that, I think it's meant to be for kitchens only. But I'm going to make Roy put it up anyway and he's going to like it."

Winry sighed in her sleep. Made me wish I was that tired so I could sleep that deep. I tightened my hand over hers.

"You ever feel young around those two?" I said softly. "I mean, you and Riza act like peers most of the time. Is that how it feels to you? They just seem so old sometimes, like they could be our parents even. Seeing someone as old as Roy act like a new dad makes me feel less ready than I already did." I moved my hand to Winry's tummy and let it rest there. I sighed.

My voice came out softer, almost weaker. "We've been so focused on this baby making it out of you that we haven't even picked out real names yet. I don't know about you, but it felt like a wake-up call to me when Riza asked about it." I felt my forehead scrunching. "All I've been thinking about is how much I want to be a dad. In all honesty, I don't know the first thing about actually _being_ one. I mean, I guess I kind of raised my little brother. Does that count for anything? Probably not. He was raising me half the time. Well, a third at least."

I scooted under the covers so I was more at eye-level with Winry's belly. I put both hands on at once and talked more to the baby now. "Let's face it. My brother was a pretty forgiving little kid. You'd have to be nothing short of amazing to grow up as smoothly under my parenting as your Uncle Al did."

I felt the baby thump against my hand like he was making some kind of reply. I bit my lip. After a few seconds, I tapped back with my thumb, not lifting my hand off where it was. The baby kicked back almost immediately. I felt a smile stretch across my face.

"You're not even a little worried?" I said. "I'm not exactly the easiest guy to get along with. I can be pretty stubborn. And don't even get me started on your mother. I'll bet you'll be as bad as us. Or worse! You'll be just like me."

The baby kicked again, harder this time, as hard as I'd ever felt from him. I raised my eyebrows. "You like the sound of that, huh? I think you're going to eat your words, little guy. If you turn out like me, we'll probably murder each other before I hit my midlife crisis. Or _when_ I hit my midlife crisis."

I chuckled at that thought. The baby seconded it with another thump.

"What if you really are a girl?" I said. "I've known it was a possibility. Fifty-fifty. It's just been easier referring to you as one or the other while we wait. I guess I've gotten used to you being a boy. If you turn out to be a girl, I'm going to be in a whole new world of hurt. I mean, forget parenting. There's going to be make-up and boys and, 'Where do babies come from?' Then one day you'll get married and have your own family and I won't be your daddy anymore. I'll just be your father." I petted Winry's tummy and the baby pressed soothingly against my palms. "You won't be mine anymore."

I swallowed. I wondered if Mustang had thought of that. I was sure he had.

I had a sudden urge to kiss Winry's tummy like in corny 'expecting couples' photographs. I was sure Maes Hughes must've had a dozen of those from when his wife was pregnant with their daughter. The thought deterred me from following through with kissing my baby and I gave Winry's belly some gentle pats instead. The baby could feel that better anyway.

"You really are a trooper," I said. I felt my face sink. "Just what are you fighting for, baby?"

The baby was still for a moment. I laid my hands heavy and perfectly flat over Winry's belly, sensing for anything. There was movement, shifting, like the baby was finding a better position inside his mom, but it didn't stop there. I felt it, in the center of my right palm. It was him. He had the bottom of his tiny foot pressed hard against my palm. It was enough for me to feel more than just a focal point of pressure. I could feel the place where he'd dug his tiny heel into the other side of Winry's tummy, where he was pushing it against the center of my hand.

"I'm here," I said. I didn't know what else to say. "I feel you in there."

I shifted my hand and countered his foot's pressure with my thumb. His foot backed off. He moved inside Winry and soon he'd planted his heel into my other palm. I felt something come out of me, something breathless and shaky, and I realized I'd begun to laugh.

"You like that, huh?" I said, pressing back with my finger. "Mommy's going to beat Daddy up when she finds out she missed this. We'll have to do it for her when she wakes up."

For a while there, I convinced myself the baby could hear me clearly through Winry's tummy and that he could understand we were having a conversation. The thought that my touch and the sound of my voice was all it took to get that kind of a response out of him seemed delusional.

I had a lingering thought nagging at me, a memory of chewing out Mustang for having a family he didn't deserve and a child that loved him for no good reason.

* * *

**Replies:**

SilverPedals1402: Yep, at this point, Winry's in charge of bringing out the thoughtful side of Ed while Mustang brings out the 'Ed' side of Ed.

Madamestang: I'd hope Riza would make a good mother after all her experience babysitting Mustang throughout the Fullmetal series :P

mixmax300: I'm with you there. In FL, characters recalled the Mustang's' connection with the Elric's in earlier years, but never in as much depth as I would've liked.

KTrevo: About Ed's height helping him grow a thicker skin- you need to look up a song called 'A Boy Named Sue.'

Rumia: Becoming a parent tends to redirect a person's own selfishness from themselves to being selfish for their kid's wellbeing. It's pretty great.

PalindromePen: Don't worry. There's plenty of tragedy in the real world. I don't do unhappy endings in my fiction. That's just my personal rule :)

AllINoIsImNotAwesome: Oh, I'm right there with you. I' get down just writing it out. Even when things turn out well, they're still painful in the moment.

PhantomhiveHost: Ed deserves respect. He has the most shitty backstory in recorded history and all it does is get shittier.

Apple Jack: _Nina Mustang_ was a test subject Roy and Riza rescued from a lab in Drachma about three months before the beginning of this story. The lab never gave her a proper name, so Riza named her 'Nina.' Refer back to chapter one. Ed summarizes it briefly. Hope that helps :)

justaislinn: Little kid dialogue is so fun, especially Nina's! Not only is she three years old, but she grew up in a lab, so I have the liberty of assuming she wasn't given much to go on when it came to technical speech XD

HowsBoutNo: I haven't had a fic without RoyxRiza yet! (Unless you're counting 'Canned Corn for Christmas,' but that was a one-shot bonus thing)

Edward Elric: You can count on it. I'm hooked on writing this thing :D

PinkPoppy15: Thanks for the encouragement! I've had a lot of practice.


	5. Technical Difficulty

**Author's Note: It was a while before I got this chapter quite right. It ended up about twice as long as the previous four, so I hope that compensates for the wait! R&R!**

**'Flame Legacy' Fans: Go to my profile and click the link for my FL fan-art gallery. I just added something beautiful and it needs to be seen XP**

**'Drastic Measures': New pages going up on deviantart tonight!**

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Chapter Five: Technical Difficulty

Winry's chest yawned against the nurse's stethoscope. This was the third after-midnight house call we'd had this week. The first time it had been Dr. Pope in person. After that false alarm, he referred us to his nurse if we had another scare. I'd seen it in his face as he'd told us a little back pain was normal in the third trimester. I'd heard it in the nurse's icy tone when she'd come a couple nights ago and mentioned to us that we weren't the worst first time parents she'd dealt with. I saw the mild annoyance in her expression now as she said, "Looks like another false alarm."

They thought we were overreacting.

"I don't know," said Winry, hand on her tummy. "It felt different this time."

Hawkeye nodded. "You scared us, Winry." She'd come up to hold Winry's hand earlier while I'd been downstairs calling the doctor. Mustang had stayed with Nina. That little girl could sleep through anything.

I rested my hand on Winry's shoulder. "It lasted longer, too. We thought it was over after a few minutes, but then it started up again half an hour later."

Nurse Jess listened to us with an apathetic grey stare that told me our input was as credible to her as the ramblings of a ten year old child. She'd already decided she knew better than us. I couldn't blame her. She and Dr. Pope had been right about every other of our worries.

Her full name was Jessica Anderson, but Winry and I referred to her as 'Jess' behind her back because it seemed disrespectful and it made us feel a little more in control. She was Dr. Pope's niece by marriage; mid-twenties, collected, and well aware she was attractive, according to Winry. She'd moved to Risembool six months before to mooch an internship under her uncle for future résumés. She planned on going for a full PhD in general medicine. No big city hospital would be the wiser about how little credibility an internship in Risembool held. She'd been assisting with Winry's case from the beginning and she did a good job of making sure we knew she was too good to be stuck making house calls.

I couldn't say I liked her, but there was no denying she'd disliked me first. I'd learned shortly into her first visit that Jess seemed to have a mild disgust with the idea of young parents and a plainer disapproval of unprotected sex. She'd been in the room that day, straight faced and silent as Winry confessed to Dr. Pope that she was late and that we knew why. She'd looked at Winry and I had seen it; I'd seen Jess looking at a mistake she hadn't made.

She'd called my baby a mistake on her way out that day. I'd stopped her and told her my baby was a great decision I hadn't made.

Technically, I had _made_ him, but Jess got the idea.

She was packing up now. All she'd bothered to get out this time was the stethoscope. I wondered how many more house calls it would take before she didn't bring anything at all.

"As the fetus grows," she said to Winry without meeting her eyes, "you'll begin to feel pain in new places. The womb is becoming crowded. It's perfectly normal." I wished she'd quit calling my kid that, like it was a name. Half the time I'd forget who she was talking about.

"Crowded?" Winry said, looking up at Jess. She cradled her belly and leaned forward on the mattress. "You think he's gotten bigger?"

I caught the hint of excitement on Winry's face. She was practically holding her breath. Hawkeye had caught it too. I could see her hand drifting to touch Winry's. I shot the nurse a sharp look that said, "You just had to get her hopes up." Jess met my gaze with a sudden falter in her composure. She ran her fingers clumsily through her cropped brown hair.

"Developmentally," she said, shifting her eyes to Winry, "the fetus's weight should be increasing rapidly as it enters the third trimester of the pregnancy. As you are within six weeks of your estimated due date, your child _should_ be reaching roughly five and a half pounds by the end of next week."

Winry sniffled. I stood.

"Okay, that's enough. Winry needs her sleep." I went to the door and held it open for Nurse Jess. "And you have better things to do."

Jess didn't argue. She actually looked grateful, knowing full well she'd said the wrong thing. Winry was trying not to cry and Hawkeye was preparing to dry tears. I gave her a nod that said, 'Hang on a minute,' then followed the nurse into the hall. I shut the door behind us.

"You need to think before you open your mouth," I said, my voice low.

Jess toyed with her mud-brown hair. "She asked a straight-forward question. I gave her a straight-forward answer."

I ran my hand over my face. "She asked if the baby had grown, not how much he _should_ have grown."

She looked at her feet, pinking. "I apologize for the misunderstanding."

It startled me a little to get any kind of apology out of this woman. It was something the nurse hadn't made a habit of doing. She was eyeing the closed door behind me now like she was uneasy about what might be happening on the other side. I folded my arms.

"Misunderstanding?" I said. She met my eyes. "These are people you're dealing with, lady. We're the ones that live with all the crap outside your textbooks. Don't get delusional. Patients don't live spotless lives after they've checked out of the hospital. You doctors just don't have to deal with it anymore."

I shoved my hands in my pockets. Somewhere along the way, I'd subconsciously slipped my hand under my shirt to hold it against my stomach where the old scar from Baschool dented the skin. Jess was staring at me, her eyes less hardened than I was used to.

I sighed. "Phone's downstairs."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I didn't hear the car this time," I said. "You need someone to take you home, right? I can get Mustang to walk you if you think your uncle's asleep."

Her face reddened like I'd said something embarrassing. "I'm a big girl," she said. "I don't need an escort. It's a short walk."

I raised my eyebrows. "Sure."

I didn't like the idea of women roaming around on their own at three in the morning, no matter how safe Risembool's crime rates were. I'd been too many places, seen too many dangers. I got the feeling Jess was the kind of person who'd get offended if I told her that.

I locked the front door behind her. The floorboards creaked under Mustang's feet as he stepped out into the hall. I let him catch my eye.

"So?" he whispered.

I shrugged.

"But she's okay?" The worry on his face made him look alert. His hair was matted at the back where he'd had his head on the pillow. Looked pretty goofy. If I'd had it in me, I probably would've said something about it.

"Go back to bed, Mustang," I said. "Just another false alarm."

He nodded. "It went on for a while."

"It's done," I said. "Nurse says everything's fine."

"Good," he said. "She went back home?"

"Yeah."

"Good." He went back in with Nina.

I went upstairs and held Winry for a while, let her cry it out. Hawkeye hung around and flipped through a furniture catalog with us, circling crib and changing table possibilities as we went along. I would've told Hawkeye to go on back to bed with Mustang and Nina, but I could tell by now she wasn't staying out of duty. She had a special kind of sympathy for Winry that I figured only a mom could understand. The Mustang family had been staying with us for almost two weeks now and, whether I'd mention it out loud or not, there were times when it felt like the Colonel was the only one in the house who understood the dad in me. The look on his face when Nina woke up from a bad dream; it summed up everything.

The sun woke me up, which was pretty unfortunate for an August morning in Risembool where dawn came at five. Winry had her face planted in my chest and I could see a damp patch under her cheek where she'd drooled onto my shirt. She hadn't slept so sloppily when we'd first started sleeping together. I'd wake up and she'd be lying there on her side with the sheets draped over the contours of her figure, and I'd lie there facing her, watching her body rise and fall with every peaceful breath.

Somewhere along the way of her pregnancy, I'd started waking up in the night to the sound of her open-mouthed snoring, kept awake for hours on end some nights, staring at her pregnant body sprawled out in whatever position had been comfortable enough for her to fall asleep in. Some nights I'd wake up with not only the covers stolen from me, but also every one of my pillows. I'd look across the bed and I'd see them cushioning Winry's back, her knees, her belly, her feet; you name it, she found a way to stack a pillow under it. No matter how many pillows I added to my side, Winry always seemed to have some extra place she needed it for. She was a pillow swiping, blanket hogging, mattress dominating, jackhammer-snoring, saliva leaking machine.

There were times I just wanted to surrender the entire bed to her and sleep on the floor with a couple blankets under me and a couple on top, but when it came right down to it, I wasn't ready to surrender that moment when I'd first wake up and realize I was married to that beautiful drooling gearhead.

It was a couple hours before Winry's snoring faltered. I listened to her mouth smacking lazily. She yawned on me and shift her face over the damp spot on my chest. Her voice came out slurred and drowsy, a special dialect that only came out when she was half asleep.

"Ed," she said. "You awake?"

"Yep."

"Time is it?"

I looked at the clock on her nightstand. "About half past seven. You really slept."

"Feel sick."

Damn it. "You going to puke?"

"Don't know." She inhaled sharply. "Mm. Bucket!"

I spent the rest of the morning cleaning vomit off my front and then telling Hawkeye after I got out of the shower that I'd take care of the sheets, just to shove some crackers into Winry before her blood sugar made her nauseous again. By the time I'd made it out of the laundry room, Winry was already heading upstairs with Hawkeye for a mid-morning nap.

I leaned back on the fluffy yellow carpet of the nursery, my nursery. It was turning out pretty nicely, even with the farm print wallpaper Winry had picked out. Somehow it kind of worked. It clashed to hell, but it worked. It summed up me and Winry's relationship in a way, our personalities in general. Soft yellow carpet beneath walls of printed ears of corn, blue-tinted watering cans, and displeased-looking roosters. Chaotic and messy, but not exactly in a bad way.

Mustang had it ready. All that was left was to fill the empty room with cradles, cribs, changing tables, chests of drawers, shelves, rocking chairs, and whatever the heck else Winry and Hawkeye could decide was necessary before the baby came. Then there were all the 'accessories,' as Mustang and I'd started to categorize them. They were basically the things we planned on putting in or on the furniture, like clothes, bottles, blankets, and burp cloths. Apparently babies burped up milk on such a regular basis that you needed a new cloth for them to burp on every feeding time.

And that wasn't the worst of it. Babies had to have different blankets for everything. Everything! One specifically to swaddle the kid in to keep him warm and comfortable, one to put on your shoulder while you burped him, one to put under him to keep his bed-sheet from getting soiled, a liquid-resistant one to put under his bed-sheet to keep the mattress from getting soiled, one to put on the floor when he spent time down there—apparently putting babies on the floor was enough of a thing for parents to need a specific blanket for that purpose?

Then there were special towels he'd need that were made extra soft for newborn skin and he'd need special wash clothes to match. I hadn't even realized he'd need special newborn soap until Winry apologized for still being indecisive about which brand she wanted to go with. And then she and Hawkeye would start talking about baby hairbrushes as opposed to baby combs and plastic bibs as opposed to cloth bibs. Mustang liked to joke about how it was a miracle the human race had survived before baby catalogs. I pretended he wasn't funny out of self-preservation when the women were around.

I didn't really remember there being a specific point when we'd begun to refer to the four of us as 'the men' and 'the women.' It had happened without me thinking about it the same way I'd found myself referring to the baby as a 'he.' It was similar to how Al would joke about Winry and May as, 'the ladies,' when we'd see each other.

I still wasn't good with me and Mustang relating as 'fellow family men' the way Winry had wanted us to, the sort of dynamic she and Hawkeye had. That was just weird and, frankly, a little disturbing to think about. But when it came to 'the women,' Mustang and I tended to be on the same page and we could bounce off each other for an hour and not die from it. That right there was a breakthrough in itself as far as I was concerned. I wasn't sure Winry knew that.

"Don't stare too long," said Mustang from the doorway. "You might just find something I need to fix. Again."

I stayed lying back with my eyes tilted toward the empty white ceiling. "Wouldn't hurt to paint the ceiling over."

Mustang came to stand next to me, his sickly-pale feet in my peripheral. Too many years of wearing those stupid army boots all the time. He'd been in Risembool almost two weeks now and was still stark as ever, clearly not a local. I looked up at him. He had his gaze tilted at the ceiling like he was taking me half seriously about the ceiling needing paint. I didn't blame him after everything I'd put him through.

"Just as long," he said, "as I don't have to use wallpaper again."

"Don't give me any ideas."

He chuckled. "How does it feel? Giving the orders?"

"It's not like I've ever made a habit of taking any." I smiled. "You've gotten pretty good at it, though."

"You haven't given me much of a choice."

"I was talking about Nina," I said. He gave me a look. "I'm serious." I chuckled to myself. "I keep waiting for you to slip up and call her 'sir.'"

Mustang laughed. "She's not that bossy."

"She's got you wrapped around her finger, Mustang."

Mustang laughed a little louder. "That's something we can agree on."

"She's a pistol," I said.

Mustang shrugged. "She's getting there."

"She will."

He looked down at me, eyes dark and heavy. "Think so?"

I wrinkled my brow. "What, seriously?"

"She could be like this forever," he said. His countenance had changed like it usually did when he worried after his daughter, a downer to any conversation. His eyes drifted. "It's a possibility."

I sat up sluggishly, feeling a little awkward carrying on a conversation with him standing over me.

"You've got issues, you know that?" I frowned. "What happened to Colonel Keep-Moving-Forward, huh? Nina's your daughter. You act gloomy like this and it sounds like you're giving up on her. It's getting old."

"I see reality," said Mustang, bristling. "That's all."

"Yeah, yeah. You see all the things she's missing out on," I said. "You should try looking at Nina's world through her eyes. All she sees are the things she's _not_ missing out on."

"Yeah?" said Mustang skeptically. "Did she tell you that herself?" He knew she hadn't. He took a couple steps back and sat against the wall.

"Quit pouting," I said.

He exhaled in a tired way. "Never mind. It's not your problem."

I rolled my eyes. "You idiot. You act more like a kid than she does."

"You don't know what it's like," he said. His expression was dark, tortured. "All you hear is screaming from another room. You don't know what's behind it. I haven't given up on her. I just know the reality."

I sighed and leaned back on my elbows, stared at the ceiling again. I thought about it for a moment before I spoke. "Not that my situation quite lines up with your kid's, but I _can_ say that if I'd looked back half as much as you do for her, things wouldn't've turned out quite like this."

"I'm not looking back. I'm looking forward. That's the problem." He looked frustrated at himself. I'd seen him like this before. Only a few times. The desolate side. The way he'd looked those first weeks after Havok had gotten himself paralyzed waist down.

"Know what?" I said. "Dr. Pope has come up with all kinds of reasons for why the baby's been having a bad time developing. He says there's a possibility of birth defects. That opens a lot of unpleasant doors."

I took in Mustang's tense expression. I had his attention.

I shrugged and looked back at the ceiling. "It's not like me or Winry have any family history of disorders in the genes, but it happens. There's some pretty awful stuff out there, too. Stuff that could debilitate the baby or shorten his lifespan. Even after we get him out of Winry, his whole life could be a fight straight to his last breath. Years of just watching him fade. No getting better."

"Guess I see your point," said Mustang. "Nina could have it a lot worse."

I sat up straight. "That's not it, you idiot! Let me finish. I'm getting there."

Mustang blinked. "Oh?"

"There are other kinds of birth defects," I said. "Ones most parents don't think about, don't even consider. Winry and I sure as hell didn't until Jess mentioned it a few months back." My posture relaxed. "Our baby could come out retarded."

My voice had taken on an endearing quality that I realized wouldn't make sense to Mustang like it did to me now. His eyes told me I was right.

"I won't lie," I said. "It's scary. No one ever _plans_ to have a kid with disabilities. It would turn our lives upside down to say the least. I'd have to grow a lot of patience and I wouldn't have much time to do it. I'd have to get used to people staring at my kid and acting uncomfortable around him, saying offensive stuff; I'd have to get used to not beating the shit outta them after they'd said offensive stuff."

Mustang's amused smile was strained. He looked uncomfortable himself.

"It was a tough week," my eyes drifted, "when Jess brought over that giant textbook on birth defects and told us to, 'be prepared for the worst.' Finally, after days of flipping through that thing and getting less and less wild about the possible turns our life could take, I just looked at Winry and said, 'Who the hell decided having a retarded baby was a bad thing?' Which made Winry cry for a while, I guess. She thought I was having some kind of mental breakdown."

"You lost me," said Mustang.

"Just shut up and let me finish," I said. "Look, after we were told our baby might be born with some kind of mental handicap, all me and Winry could talk about was all the stuff we wouldn't be able to do if it was severe enough. Our kid might not be able to go to school; he might not make friends; we might not make friends with other parents; we might not get to be grandparents. The list was too long to remember. Too long to want to remember."

I locked Mustang's eyes. He looked guilty, still holding onto some notion that I was telling him all this to make him feel bad for complaining about Nina. I shook my head.

"But we were concentrating on the wrong things, Mustang." I held eye contact. This was the part he needed to hear. "We were just thinking about us, all the stuff we wanted and all the stuff we wanted for our kid and how we'd be giving all that up if he was retarded. We were convinced our baby would be as crushed about missing out as we were."

His expression relaxed. "But that's his decision, right?"

I'd half expected him to say something like that. It was just the kind of reasoning he'd take. I was sure any parent would like the sound of it. But I shook my head.

"No?" he said.

"No," I said. "We were dead right. Our baby really would've been just as crushed about being retarded as we were about it, because we'd be raising him to feel that way. Babies aren't born knowing what a fulfilled life is. They watch their parents, the people they trust, and that's how they learn how to live. They can grow up and make their own decisions, be their own people, but no matter what, what they wanted out of life started out as what their parents wanted."

I held Mustang's taken aback gaze. "If Winry and I raised our kid with pity, he would live life like it was a life worth pitying. If we acted overprotective and defensive around gawkers, we'd be telling him he was so different from everyone else that we had to fight for his place in the world. If we hung our heads and apologized to him for all the things he couldn't be, we'd be apologizing for making a baby that could never be happy. We'd be apologizing for making a baby who couldn't be something he wasn't."

Mustang's expression had smoothed. He was getting it. I could tell. He was letting me finish this time. I smiled.

"It's not just with handicapped kids, you know?" I hugged my knees. "It applies to every one of them. I guarantee it. So, you look your baby in the eye and tell him he's what keeps you smiling. You tell him you love every part of him because you know he was made with a hundred places of his own that you were made to watch him fill day by day. You tell him that's what makes you smile. You smile because he's worth it."

I paused and just stared at the chaotic, corn-filled wallpaper around us. "Nina doesn't have to strive for a fulfilling life, Mustang. Her life was fulfilled from day one. All that's left is for her to live it knowing she's worth it without having to try. And then you get to live it with her." My eyes sank to my knees. "That's what you should be seeing when you look at her. She has it rough, but she doesn't need to have it easier to have a life worth living."

I breathed, going over my words in my mind. Actually sounded credible, almost like I knew what I was talking about. I hadn't been raised with any good example of a father figure, and that worried me sometimes. I'd be making it up as I went along when it came to filling that role. In spite of that, I'd had a mother who'd gotten it right. It was times like this when I actually felt like I knew what I was talking about that I knew I was getting it from her. I relaxed, sighing. "Anyway, that's all I was trying to say. I just meant you should enjoy what your daughter has instead of worrying about what she doesn't."

"Oh," Mustang said with a forced laugh. "Was that all?"

I cleared my throat as I took in Mustang's shaky expression. I had to wonder if I'd actually gotten to him or if he was still just depressed about Nina.

"Yeah, well," I looked at the back wall, "it wouldn't have taken so long for me to explain if you hadn't kept interrupting."

"Sure," he said quietly. I'd been going for a jab.

I leaned onto my knees and stood. I hadn't been going for heartfelt discussion. "I need to eat," I said. "And then get groceries. You're buying this time. You eat too much."

"About that," he said, standing. He smoothed his expression. "Winry told me not to bring it up, but Riza saw you with your shirt off earlier when you were cleaning up from the morning sickness."

My shirt off? Really? I felt my face turning warm. "That's her own damn fault for sticking around! The only reason I wear pajamas in the first place is because the scars get at Winry. It's not like I'm doing it for you guys."

"Calm down," Mustang said with an amused smirk. "That's not what I was getting at. Riza noticed you'd lost weight. That was all."

I shoved my hands in my pockets and glared to the side. "Oh."

Mustang's voice leveled into seriousness. "It seemed like it was news to Winry."

I made a face. "Wait, you guys gossip about stuff like that?"

"Edward."

I rolled my eyes. "It's not unhealthy for me like it is for Winry. I mean, if you can't tell through clothes, who gives a damn?"

Mustang sighed. "That's not the point. Riza's here to help. There's no reason for you to still be skipping meals."

"_Still_ skipping meals?" How'd he know about that?

"Winry noticed you'd been doing it since things got bad. She didn't think it was worth mentioning until Riza brought it up at breakfast."

I shook my head. "I don't understand that woman. She empties the contents of her stomach onto my chest and then goes straight to the kitchen for breakfast."

"Ed."

I sighed. "It's not like I'm starving myself. Things just happen. I get distracted. Winry needs me for something. I miss a meal. It's not like I think about it. It happens. I eat double at the next meal to make up for it."

"That just confuses your metabolism," said Mustang, looking less apathetic.

"What are you, my wife?" I shuddered at the thought.

"Fullmetal."

"Don't call me that."

He paused. Probably hadn't realized he'd done it again.

"Anyway," I said. "Speaking of missing meals, you're holding me up from lunch."

He looked at the ground, nodded. He didn't say anything. Just stood there like it was a big deal that I hadn't let him turn it into a thing. What the hell did he want from me, anyway? A signed document saying I'd leave my wife's bedside at any given moment to stuff food down my face? Apologize to my metabolism for confusing it?

"Fullmetal," he said as I got to the door. I paused. "You can't afford to get sick."

"It's just a little weight loss," I said.

"It's a strain on your immune system."

"Don't have to turn it into a thing," I said as I stepped into the hall. "No big deal."

"You don't need to argue," he said from the nursery. "Just be careful."

Yeah, easier said than done. I was currently living life moment by moment. Routine didn't fit into that. I got my food when I could and there was nothing else to it. I didn't need Mustang making me feel like I was doing yet another thing wrong.

The front door knocked before I could make it to the kitchen. I exhaled harshly, grumbling, "Thwarted," under my breath. I turned the lock. I half hoped it was the milkman coming to collect for the week so I could sever ties with him, but he was a neighbor from a few houses down and I'd been in grade school with the guy, so the idea was just wishful thinking, in all honesty. This was Risembool. A guy couldn't sever ties here quite like he could in the big cities.

I opened the door and my breath caught. Nurse Jess stood rigidly in front of me with her medical bag slung over her arm. I felt the blood drain from my face. "Why are you here? Is something wrong?"

"Not at all, Mr. Elric," she said. "I apologize for the alarm. I just came to drop something off."

I felt my shoulders relax as I let out a breath. I closed my eyes. "You guys just need to stop."

"Pardon?"

"Freaking me out," I said. "Everyone's doing it. Even the baby's giving off false alarms now."

The corners of Jess's mouth tightened slightly and I realized she was smiling. Trying to.

"Ed?" Hawkeye yelled down.

I jerked around. "What? What's wrong?"

"Is someone there?" she yelled.

I swallowed. "It's Jess. You need her?"

"No," said Hawkeye. "Just curious."

I breathed, turning to face Jess again. "See what I mean?" She looked pinker than she'd been when I'd turned away. Was she blushing? I blinked. "You good?"

She looked away. "It's just been a while since anyone's called me that."

I raised my eyebrows. Was she talking about her first name? "Seriously? How's that even possible? What, does your uncle call you 'Nurse' around the house or something?"

She smiled slightly again. "No, actually I meant no one's referred to me as 'Jess' in a while. My family and friends call me Jessica."

"You don't like 'Jess'?" I asked. I was kind of hoping she'd answer in the affirmative so I'd have a little ammunition tucked away to screw with her later.

"Nicknames tend to be a little juvenile," she said. "Not very professional."

"Professional?" I said.

"An asset in my line of work." She sounded proud of it. It sounded miserable.

"You mean you're like this with your friends, too?"

She was flushing again. I heard Mustang's heavy feet stepping across the entryway just in time for him not to make me jump out of my skin when he came behind me. I saw Jess's eyes widen. Mustang had stayed in his room with Nina for all the house calls so far, so Jess had only heard about him. She'd spent plenty of time in the cities. I wondered if she recognized him from the papers. She hadn't given Hawkeye or me a second glance. Probably one of those uninformed types who didn't care about her country. I'd wondered sometimes if she really did know who I was but couldn't care less.

"Everything okay?" said Mustang.

I looked over my shoulder at him and nodded. "Yeah, just Nurse Jess."

Mustang stood almost next to me, straight faced. He put out his hand to her, his eyes locked on hers. "Roy Mustang," he said plainly.

She took his hand and shook it like they were professionals. "Jessica Anderson," she said. "A pleasure."

He looked at me, releasing her hand. "Did you call her?"

"She said she was dropping something off I think?" I looked back at Jess. "Right? I think that's what you said."

"Yes," she said. She fumbled with her bag. "It's nothing. Just something I thought of."

She dug around in that bag and I half wondered if she was looking for an extra stethoscope so I could handle Winry's false alarms on my own and let the doctors stay the hell asleep through the night. Instead, she pulled out a hefty-looking book and I realized it was a hardcover version of something Winry and I already had in our library. Yay?

She handed it over to me. "Here it is. This should help answer some of your questions."

I took it, tried to look appreciative. 'What to Expect When You're Expecting,' one of the golden standards for expecting couples. So had said Dr. Pope when he'd sold us the exact same book with Nurse Jess standing right there.

"Um," I said, "thank you."

She tapped her finger on it. "This one's more up to date than your copy. I took the liberty of bookmarking the sections you'll need to focus on given Mrs. Elric's case and I've made some footnotes in the margins on areas that have presented problems for Mrs. Elric in the past. Educating oneself is the best weapon in overcoming any obstacle."

"I'm with you on that one," I said. I gave Mustang a glance because I figured he'd know what I was talking about, but he was still staring at Jess.

I flipped through the book for a second. She really had marked it up. It suddenly felt different in my hands. Heavier, like there really was more inside it than the paperback copy beside our bed. I looked up. Jess was already looking at me. "How much do I owe you?" I asked.

"Hm?" she said.

"This," I said, holding up the book with one hand. "I'll take it."

She flushed. "Oh, don't worry about it. If you want, you can just trade it out with your old copy. It doesn't matter."

My brow wrinkled. "That's not a fair trade."

"It depends on how you look at it," she said. Something about the way she said it reminded me of how Winry scoffed at my idea of equivalent exchange.

I held the book with both hands. "Okay. Deal."

"Deal?"

"Yeah," I said. "Deal."

"Alright," she said with that pathetic excuse for a smile again. She looked past me at the stairs. "So, Mrs. Elric is doing well?"

I shrugged. "Depends on how you look at it."

"I see."

Mustang, who'd been standing there like a stone column up until then, jerked his head around to the stairs where Jess had been looking just moments before. He stepped away from us quickly and I looked up just in time to see Nina climbing down the stairs one at a time. She was already a few steps down and there wasn't so much a creak in the boards. Mustang had some kind of overdeveloped daddy-sense. It came in handy with a daughter who'd spent the first three years of her life learning how to be invisible.

Mustang was up the stairs in seconds with his arms out to Nina. She let him lift her up and then launched into a series of apologies without him even saying anything to trigger it.

"Riza!" he shouted up. "Keep your eyes open!"

Hawkeye had bolted out of the room before he'd even finished. "Oh, God!" she was saying. "I hadn't even realized she was awake! Was she on the stairs?"

Mustang sounded peeved. "Yeah. I got to her." I could hear it in his voice. 'We were lucky.' That's what he was saying. I wasn't used to him talking to Hawkeye like that. She looked ashamed of herself like maybe this wasn't a first time. I turned to Jess.

"Anyway," I said. "I'll go grab the old copy and you can get back to doing…whatever it is you do."

Jess shook her head. "I'll just get it next appointment. No rush."

"Oh," I said. "Well, okay."

She stood there staring at me with her hands folded for an awkward moment. She took a breath. "Well, sorry for the intrusion."

I rolled my eyes. "This house could use a little excitement that doesn't involve vomit and nightmares." I held up the book. "Thanks. You didn't have to."

She shrugged a shoulder. "Risembool's small and the people are pretty healthy. I've had my own share of lack of excitement."

I laughed at that. "You're pouting because there aren't enough sick people around here?"

She laughed a little too. Wasn't sure I'd ever heard her laugh. It was the first noise I'd heard out of her that wasn't some form of anal monotone. For a moment, I felt bad for her.

I looked up at the sky. Mostly clear, but there were clouds gathering a distance away. "Damn it," I said under my breath. I really did need to eat extra while I could. If the weather turned on me, I'd lose my appetite for sure. No telling how long that could last; and now Mustang was on my case about it. I could've done without that.

"Uncle Ed?" said Nina in a whisper. I looked down to see her taking my pant leg. It made me start. I hadn't even known she was out of Mustang's arms. She looked up at me. "I should go on your arm so that one goes away and we eat stuff for fat persons now. Okay." She nodded in agreement with herself. I heard Mustang cracking up from the kitchen.

I bent over and picked Nina up. She smiled at me like she'd accomplished something. I raised my eyebrows. "Did your daddy tell you to say that? Did Daddy tell you to get Uncle Ed to eat lunch with you?"

Nina put both of her hands over her grinning mouth and laughed like she was being mercilessly tickled as she shook her head in denial.

"You sure?" I said, smiling back.

She cackled. Mustang was laughing too. What a weenie. I looked at Jess. "So, bye."

She nodded. "Any time."

I shut the door on her and locked it behind. Dang, it felt good to hold Nina. She was so attached to her parents that I'd only gotten to do it a few times since their visit. She felt like a little birdcage, light and delicate and fluttering with constant energy. She was warm for someone so tiny. I wondered what my baby would feel like when I held him. I hadn't really handled a baby before. I wondered if he'd be warm like Nina.

"Wow," said Mustang. He was going through the new book while I wolfed down my third sandwich. "That nurse really went to town."

"Mm," I mumbled. I was too busy eating to give him a two-sided conversation. Nina was watching me intently from his lap and had been doing so for a while. Apparently she'd never had much opportunity to witness a teen metabolism at work. Luckily, mine still hadn't worn off, so she was getting a front row seat. Mustang figured it was good for her to see someone eating like a pig. Maybe it would rub off on her somehow. I doubted it. She just liked watching.

Mustang turned the pages, one by one, focusing on the places Jess had bookmarked. I wasn't really reading any of it, but I could see it from where I was. She'd filled up the margins with her notes and she hadn't done it sparingly.

"I thought you said this woman hated you," said Mustang, almost absentmindedly.

"Mm hm." I swallowed. "Not so sure anymore. I think she just sucks at life."

Mustang nodded, eyes running over page after page. "You think? How so?"

"I don't know," I said. "She just said something about being 'professional' with loved ones the same way she is with Winry and me. Sounded like a pretty miserable way to live."

"She opened up to you about her personal life?" said Mustang, looking up from the book briefly. "Not exactly what I would call professional."

I shrugged. "Guess that's a good sign in her case."

"You think so?"

I looked up from my sandwich. His tone had gotten _too_ apathetic. He wasn't talking straight.

"Okay," I said. "What's wrong?"

"Just thinking it through," he said casually.

I tried to meet his eyes. He kept them down like he was actually reading. I shut the book on him, the pages making a loud slam as they smacked closed. He flinched back. Nina covered her ears at the sound and curled up at her dad's sharp movement. Mustang immediately cradled her and took a moment to apologize for startling her. He then took an extra moment to convince her she wasn't being punished for something. Mustang looked at me.

"You can't lose your temper around her," he said. "Just save it."

"You're not saying something," I said. "What is it? Is it the weight again?" I gestured to my mostly eaten sandwich. "I'm working on it, okay?"

Mustang held eye contact for an intentional moment then broke it to look down at Nina. He didn't try to meet her eyes. Just looked at her with a troubled expression. He looked back at me in a way that said, 'Not for her ears.'

I looked away. "Whatever." I got back to my sandwich. My stump was starting to ache. I wasn't wild about the idea of Mustang finding out that rain made me feel sick. Just seemed like a wussy problem to have. At least with the port upgrade from a year ago I wouldn't be writhing and vomiting like I'd done back when my stump was in ruins. That was one thing he would never see from me.

Winry turned a corner in the afternoon and we sat in bed together looking through Jess's notes until evening. I told Hawkeye to go do family stuff so I could have Winry to myself. She took it like I was being considerate. In all honesty, I just needed a break from guests.

"Braxton Hicks," said Winry, tapping the highlighted term at the bottom of the page. "Look, Ed. Read it. That's what I had last night."

I looked it over. Pre-labor contractions. Like practice for the real thing. "Wait, that happens?" I read back over it. "So, it's normal?"

"That's what it says."

"Then how do we know if it's the real thing?"

Winry tugged the book onto her lap and looked over the notes Jess had written in the margins. She pointed to a couple of bullet points. "Jess says I'm fine as long as I don't have more than four at a time."

"Yeah, but it also says they're dangerous if one lasts for more than a minute at a time, right? You were in pain for longer than that."

"I don't know," said Winry. "I didn't know what I was looking for last night. Maybe it was the Braxton Hicks mixed with back pain. Jess wouldn't have left if it was anything dangerous."

"But in that last section it said back pain could be a bad sign if it lasted too long."

Winry nodded. "I know. It's confusing. At the beginning of the chapter it said it was harmless and now this section's telling us to call our doctor immediately."

"Check back," I said. "Maybe it'll mention some kind of difference between harmless and emergency." It had better. This was getting ridiculous.

Instead, Winry flipped forward a couple pages. She studied over the margins, not even paying attention to the actual text. "No, look, Jess covered it. It's okay. It's not dangerous unless it feels like the baby's pressing downward. That wasn't it. I can say that much."

I leaned back, breathing. "That's a load off my mind."

"This was a great idea, Ed," said Winry, hugging the book to her chest like it was a new member of the family. "How much did Jess charge for all of this?"

"Don't look at me," I said. "It was her idea. She said she'd trade it for our old copy. I tried to pay her."

Winry knit her brow. "She just gave it to you?"

"Yeah," I said. "She dropped it earlier. She came by, remember?"

Winry opened the book back up on her lap and flipped through the pages without reading them, skimming like Mustang had. "This must've taken her weeks."

"I doubt it," I said. "She only did it because she felt bad for making you cry last night."

Winry shook her head. She held up the book, showing off the bookmarks, highlights, underlines, footnotes, side notes, bullets, and numbers. "We had her over here past three in the morning. You think she could've pulled this off in one night?"

"Does it matter?"

Winry sighed and lay back with me. "It's just a little too good to be true, Ed."

"Yeah," I said. "But like I was telling Mustang, she's just a miserable person. I feel bad for her, but it's not our job to figure her out. Just enjoy the book. It was a nice gesture."

Winry looked at me. "Mustang?"

"He got to meet her earlier." I chuckled. "You know how much he'd been looking forward to that."

Winry smiled. "Ah. How long did he last before she decided she didn't like him?"

I laughed. "I think he scared her, actually."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, he was pretty cold. Not that I can blame him. I mean, we've given her a pretty bad rap. Not to mention I was supposed to be eating lunch when she showed up and she stayed on the doorstep for a good while before Mustang sent Nina after me."

Winry's face sank. "You skipped lunch?"

"No," I said, catching myself. "Jess just delayed it a little. I ate three sandwiches."

Winry curled into me. "You were that hungry?"

Crap. "No, I was just making up for," no, that sounded bad. "I was eating extra just in case," no, that sounded so much worse. "I've got a fast metabolism, that's all."

"Ed," she said, burying her face in my chest. "Why didn't you just say something?"

I rolled my eyes. Not this again. "It's not like that. I'm not starving. It's mostly muscle loss from taking it easy all the time. I'm not a soldier anymore. I can afford to be a little gangly."

"Ed," she muttered, hugging onto me and burying her face deeper in my shirt. I rested my hands on her, afraid if I held her too close she might take it as an invitation to cry.

"It's not unhealthy," I said. "It's just not what you're used to."

Winry clung tighter.

"Come on, Winry. You didn't even notice until the Lieutenant said something."

That had sounded better in my head. Winry let out a soft sobbing breath and crumpled against me. I relented and let myself hold her.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't."

"You're always worrying about me and the baby."

"Don't," I said. "Don't start talking like I'm in the same league as you. Remember when I had to get that port upgrade? Remember how sick I got before? Remember how much weight I lost during recovery? I gained it back in time for the wedding. That was the goal. You called me healthy then, right? Well, I'm the same weight now as I was then. So what's there to apologize for?"

Winry turned her teary eyes up at me. "You're back at one-fifty?"

"It's not like I've been checking the scale all the time," I said. "Just how it looks in the mirror."

Winry sniveled. I sighed.

"Here," I said. "Why don't you see for yourself? I'm not trying to hide anything. I just know how you feel about the scars."

She leaned away enough for me to pull my shirt off over my head. I sat up so she could get a look. Not exactly bulky, but there were worse things than being lean. She stared at me, going over my body for signs of starvation and neglect.

"See?" I said. "I'm fine. Losing weight isn't life threatening for me. Don't add that to your list of worries."

She nodded, sniffling. She rested her fingers on the discolored place where I'd been impaled all those years ago. Of all my scars, this one was the one Winry tended to pay attention to. Ever since the first time she'd seen it and badgered the story out of me. I knew she had to regret ever asking, ever finding out what I'd been doing those six months after Baschool.

"It's just," she said, tracing the mark, "you have a bad habit of doing things for people at your own expense. It scares me when you don't complain enough. It scares me when you do things a certain way because you want to protect me from getting upset." She rested her ear on my bare chest. It felt good.

"Sorry," I said.

Winry breathed against me, her breath tickling my skin. She moved my hand onto her tummy. The baby had been moving more regularly lately. I felt him kick against my touch. I smiled. "Hey, kiddo."

"Hi, John," said Winry. It took me a moment to realize she was addressing her stomach.

"John?" I said. Her father's name.

"I've been playing with names," she said.

"Am I invited?" I said.

"No _Edward Junior_'s and no _Edwina_'s."

I rubbed Winry's belly. "What about 'Eddie'? That's not the same thing, is it?" The baby kicked back. "See! He likes 'Eddie.'"

"How about Trisha?" said Winry. She rubbed circles on her tummy. "Are you a girl? Are you going to be our Trisha?"

"No way," I said. "A win's a win. Alphonse claimed Mom's name before we even tried to bring her back. Trust me. We fought over it."

Winry giggled. "Okay. How about 'Sophie,' then?"

"Sophie? Why?"

"Because it's feminine," said Winry, "and it sounds good next to 'Elric.'"

"Sophie Elric, huh?" I patted Winry's tummy. "You like that?"

Winry made my hand still, laughing. "The baby's going to kick for anything with Daddy thumping like that."

I leaned closer to Winry's belly, patting the baby again, putting my ear up to it. "What's that? You like the sound of 'Eddie'?" I looked at Winry. "The baby has spoken."

She pulled me upright. "Come on, Dad. Make a real suggestion. So far it's only been me."

"I've made suggestions."

Winry raised her eyebrows. "I said a _real_ suggestion."

I groaned. "Names are so permanent. You can't just put me on the spot like this. It takes thought."

"Just try," she said. "Throw something out there."

I sighed, trying not to think too hard about it. I chuckled. "We should name him _Maize_," I said. "After the corn cravings. You've been eating so much of the stuff lately. It's probably in his DNA by now."

Winry looked up at me with wet eyes. The baby bumped against my hand. I laughed. "See? Just talking about corn gets him excited."

Winry smiled. "That's perfect."

"Well, that's what you get for asking me to throw one out there."

Winry held her belly, her face beaming as she looked down at it. "I'm serious, Ed. Let's name our baby 'Maes.'"

"Huh?"

"After Mr. Hughes."

I gulped. "I wasn't talking about him."

"Maes Elric."

"No," I said. "That's not fair. I was just joking around."

Winry smiled at me, so perfectly content. "Mr. Hughes would be so happy if he knew we'd named our child after him."

"Sure, but," I looked to the side, "what about Mustang? What if he wants to name one of his kids that?"

Winry snorted. "Oh, come on, Ed. It's not like he's family like Al. He can name his kids whatever he wants. There can be a Maes Elric and a Maes Mustang. Mr. Hughes would be dancing on tables if he had two Maes's named after him!"

I rubbed my stump. It was feeling achier. I wondered if the weather had changed or if I was just uncomfortable in general at this point. Winry didn't seem to notice. She was too busy cooing at her tummy. She paused to reach up and kiss my lips. I just sat there.

"Now, see?" she said, swinging her arms around my neck. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

I couldn't fully meet her eyes. "It's still up for discussion, though. We've got a month and a half to think of something perfect."

Winry gave me a confused look. "You don't like 'Maes'?"

"I'm just not sure it's the right name for our kid."

Winry took my face in her hand and forced me to look at her. "Something's wrong."

"No," I said. I sighed. "It's just, I'm not so sure it would be okay, you know? Naming our son after Hughes when I'm the one who got him killed." I swallowed, eyes down. "It seems wrong."

"Ed," said Winry. Her voice was watery. I was making her cry. "Ed, Gracia never blamed you. No one does."

"That's what she says. That's how she thinks she feels."

"You don't know what she's thinking."

I looked at Winry. "Think about it for a second, Winry. Parents name their kids after the dead to honor their deaths. I'm the reason Hughes died. Naming my kid after him doesn't sound like honoring him. It sounds like a cheap attempt at atonement."

"That's silly."

"I don't want Gracia Hughes acting touched because we named our child after her husband. I don't want to name my kid 'Maes,' like I had as much a right to it as Mustang."

"You're worried about Roy?"

"It's just a bad idea," I said.

"Ed," she said softly. She touched my face.

"Anything but Maes," I said.

She lowered her gaze for a moment. She nodded. "Okay, Ed. We'll think of something else."

"Thank you, Winry," I said softly. I rested my hands on her tummy. I could feel the baby moving gently under my palms. "We can come up with something better, right, kiddo?"

Six weeks was plenty of time to find a name that didn't sting.

* * *

**Replies:**

SilverPedals1402: Oh, don't worry. Cute Nina moments are a go!

mixmax300: I look at Ed in this fic and I just want to say, over and over, "Don't jinx yourself, buddy."

KTrevo: Yes, Ed's definitely been having some, "Famous last words," moments XP

fangirl2013: Aw, thanks! Every moment counts :D

Rumia: Roy Mustang being forced into fatherhood is one of the most interesting things I've done in the fanfic world. He and Ed swapping parental advice would be another :P

Eizion: Thank you so much. That's really sweet :)


	6. Unpleasant Lack of Scars

**Author's Note: Okay, so I realized I may not have made something clear enough on the last chapter. At the part where Roy finds Nina on the stairs and snaps at Riza for losing track of her, he's not being an overprotective jerk. He just got the hell scared outta him. Nina's not even three and a half and she's really small, not to mention new to the outside world and developmentally stunted because of it. Kids that young aren't supposed to scale stairs unsupervised, especially not hardwood. She could've died if she'd tripped, which was a likely hazard given her size. Roy really was lucky to have spotted** **her. ****His reaction to Riza was realistic.**

**Edward Elric's Parenting Revelation of the Day: small child + staircase = death hazard**

* * *

Chapter Six: Unpleasant Lack of Scars

I moaned. Something didn't feel right. My eyelids were closed, but I could see the glow of daylight through them. It was a grey glow, a claustrophobic lack of sunlight. I could feel stale, unbreathable air coming in and out of my lungs. My body was heaving on breaths too violently for the shallow amount of relief they were providing. I coughed. I felt hot bile rise to the back of my throat. I moaned again. It came out like a monotone hum. It didn't sound right. A crash of thunder, thick with static, filled the air.

So. That was it. My nerves were rebelling against the connection sites. My port upgrade had finally glitched.

"Mr. Elric," said Jess's voice. She didn't sound indifferent enough. "Please, open your eyes for me."

For you?

"He's awake?" said Mustang. I could feel him standing over me. "I'm getting Dr. Pope."

My mouth said, "Winry?" I swallowed. My eyes peeled open to the grey ceiling above me. "Roy, where's…?"

"It's okay, Ed," he said, coming to the edge of the bed. "We got her downstairs. She's safe."

My brow knit. "Safe?"

I couldn't make out his expression. He was standing too tall above me and my gaze was hazy. I heard Jess say, "It's not safe for Mrs. Elric to be exposed to any contagion while she is pregnant, Mr. Elric."

"Think I'm sick?" I asked.

"You have an elevated temperature of ninety nine degrees," said Jess. Oh, guess we'd better call the coroner.

Mustang sat at the edge. "You've been delirious since before the sun was even up. You woke Winry up with your moaning. The doctor says it looks like the flu."

Jess added quickly, "Mrs. Elric is up to date with all vaccinations, so the likelihood of the contagion passing to her..."

I muttered, "Mm hm." I could only take so much of Jess's clinical banter. There was a headache swelling in my head. I knew what the 'sickness' really was. They could think it was the flu if they wanted. It would be over with the storm, hopefully.

It was just one of those things that happened when I neglected maintenance for too long. Something had been too tight for a while now and my port was pumping too much feedback into my nerves. Winry could've fixed it weeks ago, but the fumes from engine oil were bad for her and the baby, so I'd put it off. No big deal. Until now.

The drastic shift in barometric pressure from the storm was making my stump ache and the connection sites on my recently rehabilitated port upgrade didn't know what to do with all the nerve activity coursing back and forth through flesh and metal. My body was giving itself a fever as a blind attempt to counter the 'attack,' and the pain was making my stomach lurch. Perfect symptoms for pseudo-flu.

Nurse Jess was telling Mustang, "He's stable."

Mustang was telling Nurse Jess, "I'd like Dr. Pope to take over."

I looked up at him. "Not that bad. Leave doc alone."

Jess said, "It is best that Dr. Pope remains unexposed. He has received the vaccine, but to risk him carrying the virus to patients who have not been vaccinated would be unethical."

"Then I guess it's a good thing he has you at his disposal," said Mustang. His flat tone indicated his words were empty. My face tried to smile. So, he'd had enough of a dose of her to decide he didn't like her. Poor bastard. How long had they been in here?

"Time?" I said. My eyes couldn't focus on the bedside clock.

"Almost noon," said Mustang. "You hungry?"

My stomach lurched at the thought. "Bastard," I groaned, holding my tummy.

"I'll take that as a no," said Mustang with a sigh.

I scrunched my hand over my shirt. Winry had told me to go ahead and leave it off, that she didn't want me hiding the scars anymore, but I'd slipped it on before we'd turned the lights out. Drool on my shirt I could handle. Waking up with saliva pooling over my bare skin was an unpleasant idea.

My core contracted as I forced myself upright. Ugh. That flipped my stomach something fierce.

"Hey, hey," said Mustang. I felt his lukewarm hands grab my arms. "Take it easy, kid."

I looked up at him as he tried to ease me back down. My dull gaze focused on his widened eyes; that sallow, worried expression. Not the tight concern he'd always used on me. It was the scared concern he used on Nina. I propped my elbow behind me and kept him from making me lie back down.

"Kid?" I said. His grip on me loosened so he was simply supporting my weight. My head hurt at the muscles in my face contracting into a frown. "Sweating," I said. "Going to make myself overheat."

The weather was raging so violently it was making my muscles shake. The movement ached me. The shivers were synched to the rhythm of chills. I knew what this was. If the pain was making my body exert itself for no reason, my muscles would force my temperature up and trick my body into thinking everything outside of it was cold. That meant the colder I got, the more I'd want to huddle under the covers, which would encourage my temperature to keep rising which would make me ache more, get more feverish, and make me colder.

I balled my fist around the damp front of my t-shirt and rocked my weight forward enough to lean out of Mustang's supporting hold. The pain was making it hard for me to move, but it hadn't sapped my strength the way a true sickness would. I could sit up without his stupid help.

"Ed," said Mustang sharply.

"Mr. Elric, please calm down!" said Jess.

I felt a spindly hand on my back; the clammy skin of my back as I yanked the sweaty shirt over my head. Damn! Jess's fingers were like ice. I flinched from her, shuddering.

"Air's cold enough without you," I said, letting my pounding head sink into my hand.

"I," she said softly, "apologize."

That was the fourth time in my life I'd heard her apologize for anything. Once yesterday at three in the morning after she got Winry's hopes up and dashed them. Twice yesterday at noon when she'd dropped off that wonder-book; scared me by showing up like something might be wrong then made me late to lunch by hanging around on my doorstep as she explained the wonder-book.

This fourth apology was different. It was unsteady, raw. I looked at her. She was frozen with one of her knees still resting on the mattress where she'd leaned forward to put her hand on my back. She held her retracted hand to her chest, her eyes wide, her face red, and her gaze locked on my shivering, bare torso.

I gripped my hand over my right shoulder where the purplish lines of scar tissue traced the path where my arm had been ripped off my body then replaced five years later.

"Childhood injury," I said, clearing my throat. My eyes wandered to my stomach at that wide, dented scar from Baschool and all the lighter, smaller scars everywhere else, like some kind of simplistic map etched into my body. Jeez. I looked like some kind of abuse victim. I wondered if I should tell her I'd been military—reckless military—or just let her jump to her own conclusions. Thunder crashed and my femur ached in my flesh like it would splinter. I cringed. Yeah, Jess could think what she wanted. I wasn't up for giving explanations right then.

Mustang must've caught the look on my face. He stepped in quickly and tried to make me lie down again. I didn't fight it. I was uncomfortably cold with my shirt gone, which meant my body had some cooling off to do. Stripping down to just my boxers would've helped more, but that would've meant moving my automail and, worse, revealing my automail. If Jess had had an issue with the scars, she'd probably freak out at the sight of my prosthetic fused to my thigh. I wasn't in the mood to deal with ignorant spectators.

"Nurse," said Mustang.

His voice was firm. His eyes were on her in a severe, almost scolding way. She wasn't looking at him. She was just standing there watching me with her hand still tucked against her chest and her heavy brown eyes locked and scanning over the damage. It was like she was lost in it.

"Nurse Anderson!" said Mustang sharply. It hurt my head.

Jess looked up in a jolt. He held her eyes with little humor. She breathed in a pant for a moment like he'd legitimately scared her. I normally would've thought it was funny for her to have been rattled, but her pale expression seemed so vulnerable in that moment that I felt sick with Mustang for being harsh with such a miserable person.

"Easy, Colonel," I said. "Not her fault I look like this."

Jess glanced down at me.

"Nurse," said the Colonel so her attention was back on him. He stood tall. "Edward is clearly out of danger. You've been here long enough."

"If," Jess fumbled her fingers through her hair. "If you're sure."

Mustang stepped away from the bed and held open the bedroom door for her. He spoke articulately. "We will call you if you are needed, Nurse."

He emphasized, 'Nurse,' like it was her name. His eyes were so cold. He seemed to have a greater dislike for Jess than I did. I'd been sick all morning, from what Mustang had said. He'd probably had enough of her to last him a lifetime, knowing him. I wanted to smile at that, but the slack look on Jess's face as she left the room was too pathetic to joke about. I looked up at Mustang as he closed the door behind her and he made his way back to my bedside.

"Don't have to be so mean," I said. "Think she's starting to regret putting career over family. Too pitiful to pick on, Mustang."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said with a straight face. He took his seat at the edge of the bed. He sat with me like I needed to be monitored or something.

I turned onto my side with my back to him and hugged my arms. Too damn cold.

"Feeling better?" he said.

I listened to the rain continuing outside. I was conscious enough to manage the pain and keep myself from complaining about it. Did that count as better?

"Mm hm," I said. "Worst's over." The worst he'd see outta me.

"Are you lying?" he said.

I didn't answer. Jerk.

"I was serious about you taking better care of yourself, Edward," said Mustang. I listened for an, 'I told you so,' in his tone, but I didn't hear any. "And it's not about keeping weight on. It's about giving your body the nutrients to fight stuff like this."

I curled up. It wouldn't help with cooling down, but the chills weren't feeling good. "It's not that," I said, finally. I breathed shakily through the ache. "My automail. I'm lazy about maintenance. It broke a few days ago and I didn't want Winry hurting herself trying to fix it. The weather's just messing with my nerves. I'm fine."

Mustang paused in awkward silence. "You have a fever," he said in clear skepticism.

"Yeah," I said. I didn't want to own up to the rest, but I'd already admitted the first part. I sighed. "It hurts," I said. "My body doesn't know what to do with the pain. It's raising its temperature because it thinks it's being attacked. Happens sometimes. I'm okay."

Mustang was quiet again. "Automail does this to you?"

My body chuckled and it hurt. "Wasn't trying to get my body back for cosmetic reasons."

"Right." He sighed. "You said it's doing this because it's broken? So, Winry could make it stop, right?"

"Later," I groaned. "Don't want anyone touching my nerves during a storm. Dumbass."

He had a smirk in his voice. "My mistake."

"Go downstairs," I said. "Don't need you hovering. Nina probably misses your sorry ass."

"Yeah." But he was sitting heavier on the bed like he planned on staying a while. "It's a good thing you're not contagious. Nina's had her shots, but a lab's no place for a kid to build an immune system. I was going to be stuck up here quarantining with you until you were in the clear."

My brow wrinkled. "What? That could've taken all week if it was for real. You couldn't stay away from that kid for that long. That'd be inhumane."

The thought disturbed me, Nina screaming through the nightmares downstairs while Mustang listened powerlessly from my doorway. If I'd really been sick, I would've been beating him up right now for staying with me. Even as an invalid, I could take better care of myself than Nina could.

"Why didn't you just send Jess up on her own?" I said. "No reason to get exposed along with her."

Mustang didn't reply. I twisted enough to look at him from over my shoulder. He was seated with his back to me now, staring forward at the wall. He broke the silence. "I don't think you should call her by her first name, Edward."

I leaned the rest of the way onto my back. I couldn't see his face, but his posture couldn't be called relaxed. Was he being serious? Was that all? He had a problem with me being informal with the nurse?

"Whatever," I said. "It was just a joke. Hasn't been as funny since I found out she's okay with it."

I watched the back of Mustang's dark head nod slowly. I rested, my eyes closing and my body feeling heavier on the mattress. The temperature of the air was becoming bearable and the shudders were dying somewhat. I could tell I was shaking from the constant ache and not as a result of chills. That was good, right?

"It's a good change," I said, my voice soft in my throat. "People usually freak out." I swallowed. "You don't give a shit. It's a good change."

"What?" said Mustang.

"Scars," I said. "People who don't have any don't know how to handle it when other people do."

I felt Mustang's weight shift on the bed as he turned to me. "Since when did you care what people think?" His voice was amused, but sincere.

"Not like that," I said. I rested my hand over the one on my stomach. "People feel guilty. Even Al. Don't like people looking at me like I remind them of something bad."

"The one under your hand," said Mustang. "What happened there? It goes all the way through."

I shrugged a shoulder. "Oh, you know. Just a metal bar through my stomach. Fell into an abandoned mine. Nothing major."

"What?" It was a demand.

My mouth turned down. "I took care of it."

"When was this?" he said. "Why didn't it make it to my desk?"

"I was a fugitive, remember? Disappeared in Baschool and didn't resurface until about six months later?"

"We didn't know if you were dead or alive until you showed up on the Promised Day," said Mustang.

"_You_ didn't," I said. "Probably the last person to figure that one out."

"I just assumed you were lying low."

"I was," I said. "Anyhow, that's it. I got impaled. I got better. The end." I curled up on my side again. "You'd think Jess would give me a break. I mean, Jeez. She's studying to become a doctor. She's seen scars before. She didn't have to look at me like that. They aren't even that interesting."

Mustang let out an empty chuckle. "Exactly."

After the storm blew over, Mustang went down and told on me to Winry, who then came up and ranted at me for being stoic. That lifted my spirits. I hadn't seen Winry all day. The fact that she was feeling good enough to yell at me instead of just breaking down and crying about it was a good sign. She righted my leg with nothing but her wrench, which hurt to hell, but was over with a couple hard cranks.

Hawkeye blinked at me as I refilled my plate with my third stack of pancakes. She'd made breakfast-for-dinner. Nina had fallen asleep in Mustang's arms after one slice of her daddy's famous burnt toast, the only thing he could convince her to eat. She'd been crying a lot, practically attached herself to Mustang when he'd come down from my 'quarantine.' It had freaked her out, not being allowed to see him. He was just holding her now, with his plate half-finished on the table.

Winry smacked my hand from going for her corn omelets.

"Nuh uh," she said. "Go make your own."

Mustang laughed. "Which one of you is eating for two, again?"

Hawkeye just watched me in disbelief. "Roy said you felt sick, Ed."

"It's over," I said. I swallowed down a forkful of pancakes. "Just automail. Not like morning sickness."

"Storm-sickness," said Mustang.

My mouth turned down. "Way to make it sound stupid."

"I adjusted his automail," Winry explained to Hawkeye, "so he's fine. Pain makes him hungry afterwards."

"Does not," I said, mouth full. "Just haven't eaten all day. Sue me."

I saw Winry pull Hawkeye's hand to her tummy, saying, "Feel, Riza! I think he likes your cooking."

I smiled at the two ladies being gooey together. The baby had been kicking for me and Winry pretty regularly when we were alone together, but it was rare for him to join a conversation with a lot of unfamiliar voices in the room. Winry said he was shy and he was having trouble getting used to our guests. I kept it to myself that it was more likely that he'd learned to save his strength to use on his parents at naps and before bed; didn't want to waste his energy on the Mustang's throughout the day. Him kicking for Hawkeye meant he had strength to spare. That was what was really making me smile.

"Hey, little girl," said Mustang softly. I looked over. Nina was curling up tighter against him, her face pressed into his stomach. He petted the back of her dark head. "Hey, it's okay. We're at Uncle Ed's and Aunt Winry's, remember? Want to finish your toast?"

She shook her head.

"You sure?" he said. "Daddy'll hold you."

I watched her tiny fist clench around handfuls of his shirt. Hawkeye turned from Winry and put her hand on Nina's back in a way that didn't make her jump.

"Mommy'll feed you," said Hawkeye gently, near whispering. "We can put a water in your mouth. Does that one sound nice, Nina?"

Nina nodded her head, saying, "No," into her father's shirt.

Mustang and Hawkeye exchanged a soft, knowing look and Hawkeye got up from the table to refill Nina's spouted cup. Mustang must've seen something in my face that needed an explanation, because he told me, "She says no after a nod to cover her ass if we were looking for a different answer."

"Ah," I said. I glanced at Nina's curled form and smiled at her. "Way to work the system, kiddo."

Mustang sighed at me. "You would say that, wouldn't you?"

I swung my arm around Winry and felt the baby move inside her. After just one touch? Wow, he was excited! Winry giggled, rubbing her tummy in a way that reminded me of ruffling a child's hair. "I feel you in there," she said.

"I wonder," I said quietly. I leaned in a little and rested my hand on the front of Winry's belly. "I wonder if he missed me." Like Nina had missed Mustang.

"Aw, of course he did," said Winry. She liked talking about the baby like he was more familiar with the world outside the womb than was possible for him while he was still inside of her.

Hawkeye was leaned up against Mustang and they were trying to coax Nina into uncurling so she could drink from the cup in Hawkeye's hand. Nina was silent, steadfast, but I caught the tremble in her shoulders. The Mustang's weren't reacting to it and I wondered if they were just playing it cool. They got her to scoot around in Mustang's lap to I could see her teary face. She sniffled as Hawkeye fed the spout of her cup into her mouth and told her it was okay to have some. She slurped half a sip and waited for Hawkeye to give her permission to sip a second time. This was going to be a long meal.

"Hey, Nina," I said. "Come here and feel my kid."

Mustang looked up. Winry and Hawkeye were staring at me too. Nina curled tighter in Mustang's arms.

"Let them handle it, Ed," said Winry, touching my elbow.

"It's okay," Mustang was saying to Nina. "Daddy's not leaving."

He was sitting directly across the table from me and I had a perfect view of Nina bunching herself up in his arms. I leaned my elbows on the table and hunched forward to speak to her.

"He's like you," I said. "Small and thin and loves his daddy."

Nina flinched, which made Mustang frown at me; but I caught her peeking at me. She hadn't flinched because she was scared this time. I'd gotten her interest. Winry was patting my back like she thought I was having a breakdown. I reached behind me and patted Winry's arm. "I'm fine."

I stood. I pulled off my shirt. I met Nina's vibrant blue eyes. I gestured to the scars.

"These are what you were looking for," I said, "right?"

"Ed!" said Winry.

Mustang had his eyes on me like I was some kind of traitor. "Don't try to make some connection with her over scars. It just makes things worse."

Hawkeye was trying not to seem bothered. "We don't want to train her to form relationships based on mutual dysfunctional experiences."

I rolled my eyes. "You overestimate my giving a shit about dysfunctional experiences." I walked over and put my arms out to Nina. Mustang pulled back, but Nina reached to me. The others froze. I smiled.

"I think I love to feel your kid someday," Nina said, eyes locked on me.

"I can work that out," I said. I patted her head. "Maybe a second attempt at dinner isn't a bad idea either, though. Think _you_ can work _that_ one out?"

A smile crept across her tear-blotched face.

I chuckled. "Think so?"

She grinned. "I think so! Maybe today?"

"No reason not to."

She giggled like I'd just filled the room with birthday presents. She thrust her arms out to me again, signaling for Mustang to release her since it hadn't worked for her the first time. He didn't look completely sure about it, but he surrendered his daughter to me. Nina practically jumped into my arms.

I patted her thin back. "Hey, kiddo." I turned to the others and said it before they could ask. "I just realized, until a few months ago, the only people in her world who didn't have scars were the people who gave them to her." I looked at the faded discolorations over her twiggy legs. "I hear you telling her when she wakes up that she's at Aunt Winry's and Uncle Ed's house. I wondered just now if she even felt safe staying with us to begin with."

"Oh," said Mustang. "Was that all."

I sat down with Nina on my lap and Winry smiled at me as I taught Nina how to make pancakes incredibly unhealthy. "It's all about layering it," I said. "Pancake, butter, extra butter, syrup, extra-extra syrup, repeat."

Nina swallowed one bite and immediately looked at her mom and said, "I love to have that one forever now."

"Success!" I said.

"I'd say so," said Mustang. He gave Nina an encouraging smile and nodded for her to go on eating.

Winry shook her head. "She'll be bouncing off the walls with all that sugar, Ed."

"Yep," I said. "But I'm her fun uncle, not her dad. I get to give her back after I've got her all sugared up."

"Bring it on," said Mustang.

"Best ever!" Nina said. She licked the prongs of her fork. "Best!"

Winry said to Hawkeye, "Do I need to make him stop?"

Hawkeye sighed. "Well, if it helps her gain weight…"

"Want some more pancakes with that syrup?" I asked Nina with a proud smile. She'd made it through all the bits I'd pre-cut for her.

She nodded. "I love that one."

Mustang chuckled. "Pretty sure it loves you too, Nina."

Winry leaned to pat Nina's head. "Both so sweet!"

After tanking Nina up on carbs, I sat with her next to Winry and helped place her syrupy hands over the baby. The way Winry was smiling at me had a melancholy softness, almost like gratitude. Winry had spent a lot of time with Nina while Mustang had been helping me with the nursery. She'd spent a lot of time watching Hawkeye deal with being the mother of a broken child. I knew Winry spent a lot of time worrying about Hawkeye. I knew she'd had more glimpses behind Hawkeye's poker face than I had. She probably knew better than I did what it meant to Hawkeye for Nina to have a smile on her face.

"All done," Nina said before I could even get the baby to kick for her.

"All done?" said Winry.

Mustang spoke up. "She's pretending she felt something in case you…"

"I know," I said. I turned to Nina. "This guy's a slow mover. Try to be patient with him, 'kay?"

Nina smiled a little. I had a feeling she wasn't used to having much of anyone at her mercy. She whispered, "Yuh huh."

I put my hands beside hers. "Just wait for it."

She didn't have to wait very long. The baby shifted and she let out a tiny gasp, her hands moving to retract.

"Feel him?" I said with a smile.

She watched my smile, nodded slowly. She stared at Winry's belly, putting her hands back in place. The baby shifted again and this time Nina's gasp came out more like a giggle.

"There's a little thing in there!" she said delightedly.

Winry placed her hands lightly over Nina's and helped navigate Nina's touch to where the baby was paying more attention to. Where my hands were rubbing.

"It's a baby, Nina," said Hawkeye, coming to sit with us. "There's a little person in there." Mustang stood behind her chair and leaned over to watch Nina play.

"Why?" said Nina, eyes on the belly.

"Mommies are like nests, remember?" said Hawkeye. "They keep their babies safe inside them until they're ready to come out."

Nina took that answer more as a reminder than an explanation, so it seemed she and Hawkeye had already had that conversation. Mustang looked relieved about that.

"Hey, Nina," I said. "Want to see if he'll play a game with us?"

Nina nodded. She was so excited, I was beginning to worry she'd stand up in my lap and started jumping up and down. I put my hands over hers like Winry had been doing and just laid them flat. Nina seemed confused as to why I'd stopped her from rubbing and patting.

"You're not in trouble," I said. "Just be patient with him. You have to stay stationary enough for him to find you."

Winry caught on to what I was doing and she latched her hand with mine to include herself. I shot her a smile. Nina jumped in her skin a little and I knew she'd felt it. I could feel the pressure through her hand against the center of my palm.

"Feel that?" I said. "That's his foot. That's my baby's foot."

"Push back, Nina," said Winry. "Go on. Push back. Let him know you're there."

"Hello, foot!" she said. She pushed down with her hand—tiny enough to equate to me pushing back with my thumb. The pressure came away as the baby backed off. Nina sank. "He doesn't love me to do that one."

"Remember?" I said. "Patient."

I felt him shift. Winry latched onto my other hand. Nina cackled as the baby pressed his foot into her other palm.

Winry laughed. "He switched, didn't he?"

"Push back?" said Nina.

"Push back," said Winry.

Mustang laughed to himself as he watched her, but he wasn't quite right. His hand was rested firmly on his wife's shoulder like a family photograph. His eyes were on Nina, but every moment or so, I noticed him sneaking glances at Hawkeye like he was checking on her. His expression was just a little too tight. He looked uncomfortable.

"That one likes to go in my mommy's nest," said Nina, holding Winry's tummy.

I saw Mustang's grip on Hawkeye's shoulder tighten and she patted his hand with a smile. "No, Nina," she said. "That one in there is Aunt Winry's and Uncle Ed's. You can borrow him, though."

"Any time," said Winry.

Any time? We'd never get him back. I laughed at that. Nina scooted across my lap and I helped her over to her mom. She sat in Hawkeye's arms and poked at the Lieutenant's flat stomach. Nina looked up at Hawkeye in confusion. "Can't feel that one."

Hawkeye laughed. "No babies in this nest, sweetheart."

Nina was obviously disappointed. "That nest wants it to be in there forever."

Winry and Hawkeye exchanged a tickled look. Hawkeye kissed Nina's cheek. "I don't know about forever, honey."

Mustang wasn't laughing. That was usually something he'd laugh at. Or pale at. He usually either laughed at his daughter's perspective on life or freaked out about it. He was just standing there with his hand on Hawkeye's shoulder, his eyes watching her like stone.

"It's getting late," he said. "Nina should eat something besides dessert-pancakes before she gets tired."

"Yeah," Winry sighed, stroking her belly. "Baby's calmed down, anyway." She smiled at Mustang. "Watch out, Roy. You're next on this baby's 'kick' list."

"Don't scare him, Winry," I said. I just couldn't picture the Colonel as the type to enjoy touching pregnant bellies. The baby would probably stop kicking the moment Mustang made contact. I chuckled to myself.

Mustang acted like he hadn't heard any of it. Just went to the breadbox to burn himself some fresh toast. Later that night, he thanked me. I asked him what for, and he said all of it. I said, 'You're welcome,' without any jabs or remarks attached. Something was going on, but I wasn't going to make him say it.

* * *

**Oh, Roy. You so brooding. Oh, Nina. You so cute eating can-pakes. Oh, Jess. You so awkward. Oh, everyone else. You so blonde.**

Replies:

Madamestang: Ed has this cute little love for monologues in the series. I continue it in my fics when I can :P

iAnneart: Winry just needs to drink more milk! That would solve everything!

KTrevo: Ha! I should do a self-help mini-series. 'Edward Elric's Parenting Disciplines,' illustrated in crayon by Nina Mustang. Amestrian Times bestseller.

AllINoIsImNotAwesom: Yeah, but dads still get veto power.

justaislinn: Girl- Maizey Elric

rye: Haha! That's great! I can see it now: "Hey, you're Maes, right?" "No, man. It's pronounced _Maize_." "That's what I said. Maes." "No, _Maize_." "...Maes?" "_Maize!" _"I'm not picking up a difference." "Like corn." "Oh! You mean like a corn maze?" "Gah!"

mixmax300: Ed and Roy are such buds. Ed's in such denial about it. "Mustang's not my friend. See, I call him Mustang instead of Roy. That makes us not friends."

fangirl2013: There are certain aspects of doctors I don't like and I may have projected them onto Jessica just a little bit. Heh.

Rumia: I want to write Jess some kind of happy ending, but she's so boring and awkward (and kind of irritating); I'm struggling to find a way to do it :S


	7. You Saw That Coming?

**Author's Note: Longer chapter than usual today! Thanks for the faves, follows, and reviews. I needed a little extra encouragement this week. Having legit insomnia for the first time in a years, probably the worst I've ever had it (awake 40 hours, fall asleep 7 hours, repeat; no joke), so getting things done has been way thrown off. R&R!**

* * *

Chapter Seven: You Saw That Coming?

"Ed!" said Winry. "Ed, wake up! It's the baby!"

I bolted upright. "What? What is it? What happened?"

"He gave me stretch marks," she giggled. "Look!"

My heart pounded. I blinked my freshly wakened eyes through the blinding daybreak. Winry was lying on her side with her nightgown bunched away from her belly. She was beaming in that motherly way she did sometimes. She pointed to the underside of her belly where there seemed to be the light beginnings of stretch marks. I had to kind of squint to see. Just a couple little pale lines.

"See?" she said. "He's stretching me out, Ed! He's bigger!"

"Damn it, Winry," I said, flopping back on my pillow. I let out a breath. "You scared the hell outta me."

"What?" She looked to the side like she was thinking. "Oh! Right. Sorry. Guess I could've worded that better."

I rolled onto my stomach and groaned. "No joke."

"Aw," she said, poking my arm. "Come on. Don't you want a better look?"

"I thought women hated stretch marks," I grumbled.

"Yeah," said Winry. "Women also hate gaining pregnancy weight and being kept up all night by their babies kicking."

"I see your point." I picked myself up, yawning. Just past seven in the morning. Right on time to eliminate chances of going back to bed.

"Come on," said Winry, tugging me closer.

I shifted next to her and she propped herself up on the pillows to give me a better view. Yep. Two pale lines, not even a couple inches long. Faded, insignificant, but a victory. I leaned my forehead against her stomach and let my eyes rest on the marks. I touched them. Smooth as the rest of her skin. I guessed it was just pigmentation. Like minor scars.

"You've got your first battle scars, Winry," I said.

"Hm," said Winry. I felt her petting my head. "Battle scars. I like the sound of that."

The baby thumped against my forehead. I smiled. "Oops. Did I wake someone up?"

"No," said Winry. "I woke up a minute ago to pee and he's been kicking off and on since I came back to bed."

"That's great, buddy!" I said, patting back. "You feeling good? You raising a little hell in there?"

"Of course he is," Winry cooed. "Aren't you, baby? You're going to be Mommy's little trouble maker."

"Wow," I laughed. "He's got six weeks before he's even out and we've already mastered the baby-talk. Parenting's going to be a breeze, Winry."

"I'll remember you said that."

I looked past the stretch marks to Winry's slender legs. Frail as ever, but not unattractive in the slightest. I sighed. Not waiting had backfired on us. Winry and I had been sleeping in our clothes since her second trimester.

"Daddy!" Nina yelled from downstairs. "Daddy, come back!"

I could hear Hawkeye hushing her gently. "He just went to the bathroom sweetie. Don't yell. He'll be right back."

"Well," I sighed. "Guess no one's sleeping past seven this morning. Like that's anything new around here."

"I love it," said Winry.

Yeah, well, she wasn't the one being woken up five times in the night to the sound of her spouse snoring like a construction site.

I went ahead and made my weekly phone call to Al while Winry got ready. It was better for him if I called during my early mornings given the time difference between us. It had been easier those first couple years we'd spent abroad to keep in touch by postcard since the two of us always seemed so busy. My settling in with Winry last year had made for more convenient phone call conditions.

Unfortunately, it also made it harder for me to throw Alphonse off from catching on to how much he could potentially be worrying about back home.

Nina fiddled with my metal toes while she waited on her mother to get the coffee going and move on to making breakfast. I had to remind myself not to shuffle my legs while I talked to Al. Hard to do. I hadn't told him about the Mustang's being here during our last call, or the one before. I hadn't given him enough to worry about on Winry to even understand why we'd needed the Mustang's. This was one kind of battlefield he wasn't ready to face.

The line picked up with an immediate, overly feminine, _"You've reached Professor Elric's office. Please hold."_

I cringed. _Professor_ Elric? Since when did the receptionist call him that? Alchemy had been cool back in the day. My brother and his girlfriend had turned the badass science into a scholastic dork-fest.

Alphonse's voice spoke smoothly through the phone. _"Professor Elric speaking."_

"Hey, Al?" I said into the receiver. "It's Ed."

His smooth, professional tone dropped in an instant. _"Brother? What are you doing up? It's six in the morning over there."_

"Half past seven," I said. "Professor Elric? Seriously, Al?"

Alphonse sighed. _"Joke all you want, Brother. This school's changing lives."_

"Yeah, well, it's ruining mine. We could've been masters, Al. Now look. My brother's a freaking classroom instructor."

"_Yeah, yeah,"_ said Al. He couldn't mask the smile in his voice. _"Sorry to disappoint, but worldwide peacetime doesn't provide much use for exciting alchemy. Professors are a lot more practical than masters in this generation."_

I winced. "Did you just put _practical_ over _exciting_?"

Alphonse laughed. _"So, how's Winry doing? Still eating corn?"_

"Is it weird that I'm sick of smelling the stuff?" I said. "I mean, I'm not sick of eating it. She's the one that eats it. She wouldn't share if I asked her to, so it's not like I'm tired of eating it all the time. It's just the smell! It's everywhere, like it's following me. She eats it so much that the fumes stay in the air nonstop."

"_Fumes, brother?"_

"Corn fumes."

Al laughed.

"I'll just be glad when it's over," I said. "With any luck, Winry won't bring another ear of corn under this roof ever again once the baby comes. Or, at least until he's a year or two old. Or ten."

"_Sounds fun,"_ said Al. _"Wish I could be there."_

I swallowed. "I know. Me too. But you'll be with us for the important parts."

"I've missed home," he said. I knew he had. It had been months. "Xing's great, but it'll be nice getting back to my old room for a while."

Oo. Right. "Um, about that, Al…"

"_Yeah? What is it, Brother?"_

"Well," I twisted the phone cord around my finger. How much did I want to say and how much did I want to hold back? "Actually, Winry and I thought we might have the baby in Dublith."

"_Dublith?"_ He sounded thrown off. _"I thought Teacher was just going to visit at the end of my visit. Like a family reunion. We talked about it at the wedding." _

I heard the whine in his voice. With his and May's school just off the ground, they'd only be able to stick around with us for about a week before they had to get back. He was getting territorial about visiting time. Took some nerve considering he was bringing May Chang to sit in with us on my kid's first week outside the womb.

"We just want to have the baby at a hospital, that's all," I said. "We're only staying until Winry and the baby are ready to go home. You can bet Teacher would host you and May if we asked."

"_You didn't check with her yet?"_

"Not about you two, no." I tugged at the phone cord nervously. "I just didn't want to commit to anything until we knew when you'd be able to get away. You'd said for a while that you wouldn't even get here until after the baby arrived."

"_I said that was a possibility."_

"It's not like you're uninvited, Al." Of all times, now he was sensitive about not being around? "Like I said, we're just going for the hospital. Once that's done, we'll be back in Risembool and you'll have us all to yourselves."

I bit my lip. Actually, I'd kind of promised Mustang I'd have Hawkeye over again as soon as we got back with the baby, and that meant we'd be hosting him and Nina too as far as I was concerned. Which meant Al might just be sleeping on the couch while they took over his room during his stay. May could sleep outside in a tent, I decided. I could run that by him later.

Al's tone loosened. _"You hate hospitals."_

"Uh," I cleared my throat. "Sure," I said. "But that's my problem. We just want to be safe. Remember Rush Valley?"

Al laughed. _"Well, yeah, but we did that without a doctor. I think it's a little different with Dr. Pope there to help." _Al paused. _"You have a problem with him?" _

"I…" I breathed. "Well, Al, it's just not worth the risk."

Alphonse breathed into the receiver. _"Because Mom died under his care?"_

I gripped the phone so hard my fingers hurt. "Shut your mouth. This has nothing to do with her."

My tone must've given something away. Of course it had. Even Nina was crawling away from my feet and running to her mother's arms. Al spoke with new fragility.

"_Is something wrong?"_ he said.

I clenched my jaw to try to smooth my voice faster than my throat was ready. "It's fine. Sorry. Guess I'm a little tense." I swallowed. "Didn't mean to snap."

"_You sure, Brother?"_

"It's okay, Al." I forced a smile so maybe he'd hear it in my voice. "Really. Just restless. I'm going to be a dad in less than two months." I sighed. "I'm nervous, okay?"

I was hoping to sway him by hinting at a different kind of worry than the one I was set on keeping from him. It actually worked.

"_Come on, Brother. It's like that for everyone," _Al said. _"No one's ever ready. You'll figure it out. Just try to live it moment by moment."_

I tried to talk like he hadn't sounded like a shallow greeting card that I was sick of reading. "Yeah, guess that makes sense, Al. Thanks." I switched topics. "So, how's May doing? Please tell me that freaky cat of hers finally died of old age. I don't want it near my baby."

"Brother! Xiao-mei's a member of the family!"

"Which never ceases to creep me out."

Al took a minute to fill me in on the trivial events of his week; mostly school stuff and girlfriend stuff I didn't care about. He gave me a Ling update, which was nice. Loser emperor had a habit of relaying messages to me through my brother. I'd developed a habit of doing it right back. Al said Ling wanted me to know that Xing was an excellent place to raise a family. I told Al to let Ling know that Risembool was too.

Al was finally forced to cut the conversation off because of his receptionist needing to go home early or something. I set the phone on its hook with a relieved sigh. Hawkeye stepped in front of me with Nina on her hip and held out a mug of coffee. I looked at her. She smiled softly.

"How is he?" she said.

I took the mug from her, nodding my thanks. "Good. He's Al."

She chuckled. "Enough said."

It kind of was. Alphonse wasn't just a person. He was a state of mind.

Nina pointed at the phone and asked, "It hurts us, I think?"

I blinked. Hawkeye gazed tenderly at Nina, cradling her arms around her. "No, baby. The telephone doesn't hurt us. Uncle Ed just heard something he didn't like."

Nina looked at me. "Why?"

"Uh," I said, "never mind it. My brother said something stupid. Sorry for raising my voice, kiddo. Didn't mean to startle you earlier."

"Stupid," repeated Nina. "Okay."

"You still haven't told him, have you?" said Hawkeye, taking a seat. Nina shifted in her lap.

"It's a lesser evil," I said. "He'll be down here the moment he finds out she's sick. It'll hit him so hard I'll end up taking care of him along with her."

"But not alone," she said. "You have help, Ed. That's why we're here."

I shook my head. "He's going to read into it that we asked you guys for help instead of him. It's best we put that bit of news off, too." I met her eyes. "Trust me Hawkeye. I do want my brother here, but you and Roy are the better option right now."

She arched a brow. "Roy?"

"Hm?"

"You called him by his first name." She melted into an amused smile. "Not sure I've ever heard that from you."

I felt my face turn warm. "So what? Mark it on your calendar if it makes you feel better."

After my shower, Winry spent nearly fifteen minutes sitting on our bed trying to convince me it was a good idea to let her braid my hair. I told her my hair was too long for that to still look remotely masculine. I told her braiding my hair while it was still damp would make it come out of the braid all wavy when I took it down before bed. I told her guys weren't into doing each other's hair the way girls were. I told her I didn't want Jess and Dr. Pope to stop by for her checkup after lunch and catch me with my hair braided down my back like Xingese nobility.

Winry's one and only argument boiled down to, "Please, Ed!"

So, my wife 'did my hair.' I put my foot down when she asked me to braid hers to match. Either the hormones were going to her brain, or she was just milking this pregnancy thing for all it was worth.

When Dr. Pope knocked on the door, Nina darted straight to Mustang. She'd learned yesterday morning that when strangers knocked on the door, Daddy disappeared for the day. He scooped her up and waited with her in the living room with the women while I got the door. Winry usually got her checkups in our bedroom, but she'd just gotten downstairs from playing with my hair and she didn't feel inspired to go back up anytime soon.

I opened the door for Dr. Pope and his nurse, ushering them in. "Hey, doc. Come on in. We're in the living room."

He ran his hand through his thinning grey hair. "Goodness, Edward! I was sure you'd be in bed."

I forced a smile. Dr. Pope had been our family doctor since before I could remember, but that didn't make me crazy about him. He was qualified and everything, and a fairly pleasant guy, but he was well versed in the common doctor's God complex. The moment he stepped into a room, we were just supposed to assume he knew better than the rest of us. I wondered if Jess had learned some of that from him or if she'd developed it all on her own.

Jess gaped at me as she stepped into the hall. She didn't walk further. Neither of them did. Last time she'd seen me yesterday, I'd looked like the flu.

She shook her head. "Mr. Elric, you can't be down here! Exposing your wife to any form of contagion…"

I put up my hand. "Give me a break. I wasn't sick. My automail was busted. The pain gave me a fever. No big deal."

Jess blinked. "Automail?"

I paused. I pulled my left pant leg up above where my sock left off so she could see the metal. "It hurts when it gets damaged sometimes. Quit worrying about the flu or whatever. It wasn't that."

"You're an amputee?" she said quietly.

I dropped my pant leg back down and turned to Dr. Pope. "So, Winry's in the living room with our friends. Their daughter was adopted out of a bad situation, by the way, so she's a little timid around strangers. Just don't raise your voice or move too quick, okay? Mustang's going to take her to the kitchen in a minute to give Winry some privacy, anyway."

Dr. Pope nodded reassuringly and his brown eyes crinkled with years of smile lines. Geezer. "Not a problem. We'll be careful."

Jess just kept staring, her face slack, her cheeks pink and then pinker when she caught me looking back at her.

…

It had been several minutes since Dr. Pope had told us the baby had turned a corner and Winry was still half-laughing into her hand with tears brimming down her face. She and I had known something must've been going better. The baby had been kicking and shifting more than ever. Just hearing it told to us out of a professional's mouth made it different, though.

"I told you not to worry, didn't I?" said Hawkeye, squeezing Winry's shoulder. "Told you he'd catch up before it was time."

"It's official!" I said. "My baby's bigger than a grapefruit!" I looked over at Jess. She was just standing there against the wall while the doctor packed up, observing like the blandest person alive. I caught her eye. "Hey, now. At least try to contain your excitement, Nurse. Don't want to make a scene."

Jess pinked. That woman. It was like the mere idea of expressing emotion was embarrassing to her. Her mouth smiled feebly in response to my sarcastic remark. "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Elric."

I felt my smile slacken a little at the look on her face and realized I was feeling self-conscious about my scars again; in this moment, my lack of a left leg. Jess just wouldn't stop staring at me with that unsure, pained expression. Usually it made sense for people to stare and act awkward about my stuff, but the fact that someone in the medical profession was giving me grief about old injuries just made me unsettled.

"Ed," said Winry. I felt her cool hand on my arm. I met her warm eyes. "You okay?"

My smile came back quickly. "Yep." I swung my arm around her. "Better than okay."

She leaned into a fuller hug, craned her head up for a kiss. I kissed her back. We'd never really been too publicly showy with the physical stuff, but there were worse things than kissing in front of Hawkeye, Dr. Pope, and a very crimson Jess.

I rubbed Winry's back, whispering, "I love you."

She huddled in my arms, sniffing. "I love you too, Ed."

She half-laughed, half-sobbed. I couldn't imagine what it had to have been like for her in that moment. She'd called herself a human deathtrap in the past. To find out the baby was finally thriving inside her must've been like handing her the world.

I looked past Winry at the sound of a second voice gasping on a sob. Hawkeye was sitting with her face turned away from us, her hand over her mouth to muffle any following sound. There was a tremor in her shoulders. I swallowed. Without Mustang in the room, I wondered if it was my job to check on her. Winry beat me to it.

"Oh, Riza," she said, leaning out of my arms to lean into Hawkeye's.

"I'm so happy for you," said Hawkeye with a teary smile. She regained herself, but something lingered. I couldn't place it. The way she was laughing with Winry was too airy. It was like she needed to keep crying, like she'd cut herself short.

I looked at Jess. I'd thought I'd felt her eyes on me again, and I'd been right. She looked away immediately, shoulders hunching as she folded her arms over one another. She looked like an angsty teenager with her posture slack and her eyes down. I'd never seen her look self-conscious quite like that before. Jess. For such a boring person, there was no figuring her out.

I stood to let the doc out. He smiled as we came out into the hall with Jess following behind.

"I think Winry took that rather well," he said.

I chuckled. "You made her day, Doctor. Damn. You made her month." I looked down the hall at Mustang and Nina heading over and said quietly, "Guess you made my month, too."

Mustang came to stand with us outside the living room and Nina hid behind his leg. He looked to me in level concern. "What's wrong? I heard tears."

I grinned. "You kidding? Those are tears of joy, Mustang! My baby's catching up!"

His expression flipped to a look of delighted disbelief. "Wait, he's bigger?"

"Doc says he's bumping four pounds!" I said. I looked down at Nina curled behind his leg. "Hear that, kiddo? My baby's over the fifth percentile. What do you think about that?"

She scrunched a fist of Mustang's pant leg and peered at me sheepishly. She mumbled, "I like it."

I laughed at her shy excitement in front of the doctor and Jess. Mustang gripped his hand on my shoulder like he was congratulating me all over again.

"That's good to hear," he said.

I shrugged him off jokingly. "Yeah, yeah. About time we had some good news run through this house." I stepped away from the living room door and gestured for him to go on. "I'll catch up with you."

He paused, his smile a little limp on his face. He noted the doctor and nurse standing with me. "Something else?"

I shrugged sarcastically. "I figured I'd better pay the doctor for his visit. Wouldn't want to give him any hard feelings about coming again."

"That's right," said Mustang. He side glanced at Dr. Pope and Jess. "Have a nice afternoon." The words were harmless, but the tone was double edged. He was basically telling them to go home. He was tired of them. Made me laugh a little to myself.

I wrote Dr. Pope his check, like always. There were kinds of small-town doctors who looked out for young couples just getting their starts in the world, but not Dr. Pope, not with us. When he charged, he charged in full. He'd discovered years ago that he could do that with me. After quitting the military, my bank account had been swollen with years of barely touched savings and transferrable grants I hadn't had use for at the time. I'd been on the pension of a retired major since I was sixteen years old. Winry having a rough pregnancy had likely turned into Dr. Pope's best business since the aftermath of the Ishvalan Civil War.

I wrote a separate check for Jess, planning to attach any outstanding fees I owed from all the house-calls. I tried to work out the amount in my head, but as soon as Dr. Pope headed on out without her, Jess stopped me and said, "Don't trouble yourself. I just stood around. You don't owe me anything."

I paused. She kind of had a point. I was just surprised she'd made it. "Well, sure, but we owe you for the house calls. You said I could put it off until next appointment. That would be now."

She shook her head. Her eyes didn't look right. She stared at me intentionally and I realized she was welling up. Shit. Not her, too.

"Mr. Elric," she said quietly. "Yesterday morning I left you with a misdiagnosis. I'd prefer not to charge you for it."

I raised my eyebrows. Seriously? "Come on, lady. How were you supposed to know about that? My own wife didn't put it together until Mustang ratted me out, and she's my mechanic." I flipped open my checkbook and scribbled down what I was pretty sure I owed her. "You already gave us that baby book with the notes. I'm not going to cheat you out of any more money for the sake of your stupid conscience. It's just getting weird."

I handed her the check. Her fingers trembled as they took it. Damn it. Why'd she have to look at me like that? I averted my gaze, my fists clenching at my sides.

"Listen," I said. "I was in the military for a few years. Ask Mustang. He was my commanding officer back then. That's how it happened. They're just scars. I'm not a tragedy or anything."

"Military?" she said. My admission gave her voice weight, like I was explaining more than just the scars. She faltered. "But, we've been in peacetime for half a decade."

I nodded. "Yep. That's when I quit. Peacetime."

I let her meet my eyes. She looked partly confused, partly offended, like she thought I was mocking her or something. "You're twenty one years old."

"I was a State Alchemist," I said. Dang. I shouldn't've gotten her started. "Mustang got me certified when I was twelve. Youngest State Alchemist in recorded history. And thank God for that."

She looked so thrown off I might not have recognized her compared to how put-together she'd been the day we'd met. Her widened brown eyes darted like they were looking for a sign to tell her what to do and her face had settled into some kind of pink equilibrium.

"Stop!" I said. My voice sounded less steady than I'd intended. God, the more I tried to get her to quit making a big deal out of it, the bigger deal she made! "That's all over now," I said. "Quit freaking out like it's in front of you. I just wanted you to quit staring at me, that's all. Is that so hard?"

"Staring at you?"

"It's like you think I'm dying or something. You need to just," I closed my eyes. "I wish you'd," My heart had picked up pace for no good reason besides unpleasant memories being triggered in my subconscious. I saw death and grief, heard my brother screaming, felt Winry crying against me, smelled my own blood from every direction. I swallowed. My eyes scrunched tighter. "Just mind your own business, Jess."

I felt her hand on my shoulder, that cold, quivering hand with a touch that tickled. A shudder went through my body as my mind processed that Nurse Jessica was offering me physical comfort, even if only in the slightest form. My eyes flashed open at the odd sensation of her breath on my face. I got an eyeful of her cropped brown hair. Her usually tight mouth kissed my cheek so close to my own mouth that the corner of her mouth brushed the edge of my bottom lip. My stomach lurched.

"You really are oblivious," she said, close enough for me to feel every word puffing against my jaw. My body flinched away from her in a jerk. This was all kinds of wrong.

"Nurse Anderson," Mustang said in his usual disdainful way. I looked behind me where he'd come out into the hall. He was standing tall with eyes black like tar pits and a glare burning into Jess's gaze. He articulated, "You have overstayed your welcome."

I didn't look at her. Kept my eyes down. Just listened to her shoes clack against the floorboards and the door creak and shut behind her on her way out. I wanted to close my eyes, but I was a little uneasy about going that route again. I felt Mustang's firm hand on my back and I realized I was breathless.

"Did that just happen?" I said.

"Uh, yeah."

"You saw?"

"Yeah."

I swallowed. "That was way inappropriate, right? I mean, I'm not overreacting?"

He let out an empty chuckle. "No, she definitely crossed some lines."

I nodded. "Did you see that coming? I didn't see that coming. I mean, that came out of nowhere, right? She said I was oblivious like I should've seen that coming."

He exhaled. "I wasn't going to say anything."

"Wait, what?" I pinched the bridge of my nose. This wasn't happening. "How long?"

"I don't know," he said. His hand slipped off my back and his arms folded. "Riza mentioned the nurse having a thing for you a week ago. I figured Winry had talked to you. Though, you've been acting so clueless, I was starting to wonder."

"No! No, Winry did not talk to me!" I stepped away from the wall. "Did she know about this? Am I seriously the last person to figure it out?"

"Technically, you didn't figure it out. It was handed to you."

I ran my hand over my face. "She's fired. I'm going to call Dr. Pope and fire her. God, I feel sick." I backed up against the wall and sank down. Mustang chuckled and knelt down with me.

"You okay?" he said.

"Bastard," I said. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't see you taking it very well from me."

I glared at him. "Better that than…this." I wiped the side of my mouth with my fist. Jess germs.

"Sorry."

"What tipped you off?" My face felt warm. Apparently the answer should've been obvious to me by now. "About her, I mean."

Mustang shrugged. "Riza mentioned it to me first. I mean, I didn't meet Jessica in person until a few days ago. Just stuff you pick up on. For such a closed off person, she made some pretty professionally inappropriate exceptions for you. Talking about her personal life, asking about yours, getting you on her own all the time, that book she brought over with no charge…"

"That was for Winry too!" I said.

"No, Ed," said Mustang with a laugh. "That was for you."

"Dammit, Mustang!" Well, that explained Winry getting all weird about it being too good to be true. "I'm married! My wife's having a baby in a month and a half! What the hell did that woman want from me?"

The light in Mustang's face faded. He sighed. He sat back and leaned his elbows on his knees. "Look, Edward, _I_ know your situation, and so does anyone else that matters, but," he looked at the floor in front of him, "to someone on the outside, someone like Jess who only met you and Winry recently…"

I looked at him. His brow was wrinkling nervously. His mouth tightened closed like he was second guessing himself from talking.

"What?" I said. "I want to know."

He leaned his head back, his eyelids dropping. "Ed, you're barely twenty one. In this day and age, it looks like you and Winry were just a couple kids screwing around and you got her pregnant out of carelessness. Most people without the facts would assume the only reason you committed to Winry was because she's having your baby. That's just how it looks." He sort of winced at the end like he was preparing for me to react.

I leaned my chin on my fist. "Oh. Well, that makes a lot more sense."

Mustang straightened, eyeing me cautiously. He didn't say anything. It was like he was waiting on me to continue into something bigger. I sighed.

"Come on, Mustang," I said. "You think you're the first to break that one to me? Risembool's a small town. Winry and I getting pregnant outside of marriage hasn't been a secret. I still get dirty looks from the shop-lady every time I visit the hardware store to pick up an order for the nursery. I'm sure even some of the friends we told from out of town gossip about it sometimes. It makes sense that someone like Jess might get the wrong idea about it. Can't blame her for that. Though, I still don't like that she thought that made me fair game."

Mustang's mouth hung slightly ajar. He swallowed. "You're not getting mad."

I shrugged. "Guess not."

He knit his brow. "How?"

"You know the answer," I said. "Who gives a shit about the hardware store shop-lady's personal opinion on my wife's pregnancy or the word on the street? I've waded through rivers of blood. I saw a child transmuted into a chimera by her own dad. The world's bigger than appearances. Winry and I knew when we got married people would think we were only doing it because I'd knocked her up. Thing is, we decided we really didn't care."

"You did?" It wasn't disbelief. Honestly, it sounded like he hadn't known what to say, so he'd just said that. He looked away. "I guess I may have underestimated you, in that case. Sorry. I should've spoken up." He folded his hands and sighed. "Yesterday while we were sitting with you during the storm, Jess asked me if you and Winry were happy together before you woke up. If that wasn't a red flag, I don't know what is."

"She asked that?" I shuddered. "Who the hell asks something like that? She's our nurse!"

"I ended the conversation," said Mustang, like I needed an explanation. "I thought about talking to you later."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, you know how big a believer I am in it being the thought that counts, Mustang." I groaned. "This is terrible! I need to fire her. Now. Oh, God, no wonder she was making such a big deal about the scars. She was getting sentimental!"

Mustang blinked. "She said something about the scars?"

"Yeah," I said, rubbing my face, "kind of. I mean, you saw how she was looking at me when I took my shirt off yesterday. Ever since, she just stares and gets red and her eyes look strained. It's like she thinks I'm dying. That's what we were talking about earlier. You know, before she…did the thing. I only told her to quit staring at me all the time. Figured it was better just to say it."

Mustang let out a laugh. I looked at him. He met my eyes. "Ed, she wasn't," he paused, "looking at your scars."

I squinted. "What?"

"This woman is attracted to you," he said. "Think about it."

I thought about it, why she'd been acting awkward ever since she'd seen me with my shirt off. I went rigid, my face feeling uncomfortably warm. "Oh, hell no! No. She wasn't."

"She was."

"Nuh uh."

"It's not that big a deal, Ed." He was watching me with a smile like I was a child doing something pleasantly naïve. "Nurses have hormones too."

"Oh, don't you start. It's easy for you to say. I happen to have a problem with being a piece of meat."

He folded his arms. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Seriously? You were a total man-slut before the Lieutenant tamed you."

He grimaced. "Tamed me?" He shook his head. "You know, you're pretty ignorant for such a wise ass. I put up that womanizer act to throw off the higher-ups. Those girls I 'dated' were feeding me intel during the conspiracy. Lives were at stake. You think someone serious about becoming Fuhrer would spend his free time messing around?"

I leaned my chin on my fist. "Guess I always saw you as a multi-tasker. Hm. Interesting."

He sulked. "Give me some credit, would you? I'm not that big of a jerk. I mean, I doubt Riza would've married me if…"

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry I mentioned it. Chill out, okay? Jeez." I sighed into my hand. "Still got to fire that nurse."

"Ed," he said. "You can't _fire_ her."

"I can banish her from my property."

"That you can do." He smiled. "I won't stop you."

"Like you'd even be able to do that."

"Want to bet?"

"Give me a sec to grab the garden hose."

His eye twitched slightly in a way I realized I'd kind of missed seeing. "Don't get cocky, Pipsqueak. I've gotten pretty good at transmuting without a matrix."

"Pipsqueak?" I fought the urge to stand on instinct and kick his face in. "I'm taller than you, you bastard! And I don't need alchemy to win a fight. I'd kick your ass!"

"Never stopped _acting_ like a pipsqueak."

"Say that again! I dare you!"

The floor creaked and I saw Winry's swollen feet step into the hall. I looked up. She had one hand propped against her back for support and the other hand over her mouth suppressing a laugh. She met Mustang's eyes.

"He never stopped acting like an alchemy freak, either," she said. "Just who he is." She focused on both of us. "What's taking so long, sillies? We miss you."

I stood. The place on my cheek where Jess had put her mouth suddenly felt overly sensitive. I found myself covering it with a couple knuckles like it needed to be protected, like that would even do any good now. Winry gave Mustang and I a questioning look when the two of us fell silent rather than jibing more. Her eyes settled on me, her brow knitting. I felt my face becoming sensitive everywhere now in a warm flush. I took a breath. I looked at Mustang. He was already coming to his feet.

"I'll give you two a minute," he said. He met my eyes as he said it like he was asking if it was okay to leave. I shook my head. His brow furrowed. "No?"

"Something wrong?" Winry said. She was looking between us like she wasn't sure who to ask.

I shrugged at Mustang. "It's not some big secret. Apparently I'm the last to know, right?"

Mustang smirked. "Hey, Nina hasn't put it all together yet."

I remembered Nina toddling up to the door to tell Jess to leave so I could have lunch. "Shut up."

"What's going on?" said Winry, arms folded.

I stepped beside her and put a hand between her bony shoulders. "Let's sit down. You're making me ach just watching you on your feet like that."

Winry rolled her eyes but came anyway. "You make me sound useless."

I wanted to tell her she was the most useful person in the house, but I figured I might sound too sincere using those words, so I dropped it and kissed the top of her head instead.

Mustang sat in an armchair pulled up next to the end of the couch where Hawkeye was already seated and Nina quickly crawled across into his arms. Winry sat next to Hawkeye. I made myself sit. I kind of wanted to run to the kitchen phone and tell Dr. Pope his nurse was banished from my house until the end of time; just to get that taken care of.

"Something wrong?" said Hawkeye. She was looking at Mustang. I assumed she'd probably seen something off in him.

I leaned my face in my hands and nodded. "That dumb nurse kissed me on her way out."

I felt Winry's weight shift on the couch. "What?"

Hawkeye followed with her own equally appalled, "What?"

"What?" said Nina for good measure.

Mustang was laughing. "Calm down. It was on the cheek." He hugged Nina. "She wouldn't have gotten to go home without a talking to if it had been anything else."

"On the cheek?" Winry seemed a little stupefied. She looked at me. "On the cheek, Ed?"

Hawkeye was looking at me with similar confusion in her expression. Was that condescension in her eyes? She looked at Winry and a smile crept onto her lips. I realized Winry was starting to smile too. Mustang had made it sound like Jess had been harmless. I clenched my fists.

"Yeah, on the cheek!" I said. "That doesn't make a difference! She got too close. I didn't like it, okay?"

Nina curled in Mustang's lap the way she usually did when people raised their voices, but Mustang didn't growl at me to hold my temper like usual. He actually looked kind of sorry for laughing. Hawkeye did too. Winry touched my hand, looking extra sorry, and I realized they were feeling bad for picking on the kid who'd gotten attacked by cooties for his first time. I hunched. Put into words, I was probably overreacting.

"You should've just told me," I said, looking at my feet. "Mustang said you all saw it coming."

Hawkeye spoke first in her calming way, "Sorry, Edward. I'd assumed a woman serious about her career would have the sense to stay within her legal limits. You could sue her for stepping outside her bounds if this were the cities."

I caught Mustang giving Hawkeye an admiring smile while she wasn't looking. I guessed those two had had their fair share of experience keeping relationships in the workplace within legal limits. Was that how they'd seen it so clearly with Jess, or was I really that oblivious like Jess had said?

Winry ran her hand up and down the middle of my back soothingly. "I thought about saying something. I just didn't want you getting weird about it. Crushes happen. She's a pain in the ass, but she's a damn good nurse. I was scared you'd overreact and try to fire her or something."

I frowned. "I wouldn't do that. Why would I do something dumb like that? We're all adults here."

Mustang's apologetic expression was gone. His body quaked with loud laughter, pointing at me like such a kid. Nina stared at me with narrowed, searching eyes like she was desperate to see whatever hilarious thing her dad was pointing at. Hawkeye swatted his shoulder.

"Roy, keep it together!" She gave Winry and me an apologetic glance.

"Yeah, keep it together, Mustang," I said, straight faced. I folded my arms. "Shameless bastard."

Nina looked up at Mustang and pointed to him in a mimic to his pointing at me. She grinned. "Bastard!"

Mustang paled. Hawkeye snorted on a laugh like some kind of reflex. Winry elbowed my ribs. I gave Nina a thumbs-up and a wink. She gave me a thumbs-up and held one of her eyelids down with her other hand to wink back at me.

I eventually explained exactly what had gone down with Jess in the hall. I didn't have to go into too much detail. Everyone already had some kind of background knowledge on Jess's…thing. I caught Winry smiling when I mentioned feeling sick after the stupid kiss. Of course, she didn't say anything about _firing_ Jess. Not completely. Dr. Pope had fancier certification, but Jess's education was more recent and she'd worked in OB for some time in Central as a nurse before deciding to become a full-fledged doctor. Her presence was bad for me but good for the baby. In a week and a half, we'd be in Dublith anyway.

Winry did say someone needed to tell Jess to back the hell off and she didn't think it should be me. I agreed on that. I didn't want to be near Jess again. Hawkeye had patted the side of her leg where I'd wondered if she had a gun holstered under her skirt. "Nurse Anderson and I will have a talk," she'd said. "As female professionals."

Before bed, I sat back after rubbing Winry's ankles and said. "I hate this."

Winry looked at me as she pulled the covers over her. "Hm?"

I closed my eyes. "Why me?"

"You mean Jess?" said Winry. I didn't answer. Winry put her hand over mine. "You're a good guy. That's all."

I rested my heavy hand over my closed eyes. "Sure it's not something I did?"

I heard Winry chuckle gently. She rubbed my arm. "You're a good guy with good looks. Girls are stupid sometimes. It was just a kiss on the cheek, Ed."

"Yeah," I said. I remembered Jess's warm breath puffing too close to my lips. So close. "But it meant something to her."

* * *

**Poor Ed doesn't know how to deal with people. Crona: "It's okay, M-M-Mr. Elric. I d-don't know how to handle people either."**

Replies:

PalindromePen: Maybe. We'll get back to him next chapter ;)

PhantomhiveHost: Hey, I debuted Nina's character in BBG about this time last year. That makes her OC a year old on FF.N! She needs a party...

AllINoIsImNotAwesome: *cough-cough* *wink-wink*

KTrevo: Ha! I'll add that to the 'incomplete ideas' list :P

NekoNightshade22: Daddy-Ed makes me want to be a dad. Not a mom. A dad.

mixmax300: I loved writing Nina as a young woman in FL, but I totally missed writing her as a three year old like in BBG. To quote Roy Mustang, "She's a damn cute baby."

rye: Sometimes I'll be writing fics and all the sudden I'll just want cornbread muffins for no reason. Maize affect XP About dialogue not in quotations, I think you may be confusing character dialogue for stuff Ed was just saying in his head. Sometimes I'll have characters think responses instead of saying them aloud, kind of like people do in real life.

fangirl2013: Heh. Speaking of weird places to end a chap...

Rumia: Yeah, see, when I said it'd be tough to give Jess a happy ending, I had this chapter already in mind. As for Roy, it'll go into it next chap.

SilverPedals1402: 'Baby Nina' deserves to be a genre on this site. Action/Adventure/Baby-Nina, rated:RA for ridiculous adorability XP

justaislinn: Aw, arthritis? Got some of that in my family. It sucks. Well, I don't have that (thank God), but I was born with extra sensitive nerves that make things hurt like the dickens sometimes. I researched high risk pregnancy a lot for a few years when my body was too fragile for me to have kids if it stayed that way. So, guess you're right. I did draw from past experience. Thanks for noticing :)

Eizion: "Best ever!" Your review reminded me of a Nina commonly-used-phrase.

BlueIsTheColorOfOurPlanet: It's gotta be the virtual narcotics I've been slipping my readers through my posts. I've got you addicted.


	8. OVA Sleep

**Author's Note: ****Thanks for bearing with me, guys! So appreciated! A few weeks ago I had to switch laptops unexpectedly and my next post and a half were stored on the old hard drive, so I'm still waiting on recovering those files. In the meantime, I offer this off-plot bonus chapter to tide you over. Time before next legit update is yet to be determined.**

**…**

** While you're waiting, my other fanfics are all relevant to this one (though, I will say again, none line up perfectly with the other and there obviously will be spoilers to this one in FL). 'Babysitting the Boss Guy' is the one that comes directly before 'Accident Baby,' if you're into chronology. It was my first ff and totally remains my baby; but, not gonna lie, it's sloppy as hell compared to this. (Special Note: BBG Chapter 40 is void to 'Accident Baby').**

**PS- Yes, I call these golden nuggets OVA's, because if this fanfic was animated, that's what these chapters would be.**

* * *

Chapter Eight: OVA- Sleep

Alphonse Elric

Five years of being constantly awake. Five years of watching people sleep. Five years forgetting what it was like to be exhausted. Five years spent wishing my body had the capacity to close its eyes and just turn off.

And the first dream I'd had in my real body after five years of sleepless nights had been a nightmare.

It'd figured. Seemed like nightmares from the Portal were all Brother had been capable of those first years after the taboo. My subconscious had been waiting five years to unleash the same torment on me. Nothing comes free, Brother always said. Somehow, sleep being affected by that fact had slipped my mind until that first night back in my body.

"Alphonse?" May said. I could feel her hand on my shoulder, recognize her touch; small and delicate with a deadly firm grip. "Al, you okay?"

I opened my eyes slowly to avoid blinding myself from the sudden brightness. Xing culture went heavy on vivid colors in their decorating and my office walls sometimes seemed brighter than the fluorescent light bouncing off of them. I sat up from my desk and took a moment to peel off a half-sealed envelope that had stuck to the side of my face.

"How long was I out?" I asked.

May giggled. "Don't worry. You just dozed. I was only out of the room for ten minutes." Her brow knit and she leaned over my desk to lick her thumb and try to smudge something off my jaw. "Well, that's not coming off."

I looked down at my desk and sighed at the uncapped pen bleeding ink onto some crumpled blank stationary where my face had been resting moments before. I pinched the bridge of my nose and blinked hard a couple times, breathing deep through my nose, shaking myself out of lingering drowsiness.

May's tone lost its charge. "You've been lying awake at night, haven't you?"

I met her still gaze. "Force of habit."

She raised her eyebrows, arms folded. "I don't buy that."

I smiled. It was still funny, seeing her direct any form of disapproval at me. For so long it had been like I could do no wrong. Then, last year, I'd come back to Xing from traveling around and she'd shown me where the glasses were in her family's kitchen. Yes, she'd showed me the glasses and pointed to the water pitcher across the counter instead of asking me what I wanted to drink so she could get it for me herself. Oddly enough, that was the moment it first dawned on me that we were adults now.

I stood and pushed in my seat. "I think," I said, "that it might be too easy for me to stay awake. Does that sound weird?"

She pushed aside an open alchemy textbook and sat on the end of my desk like an unspoken command for me to take my seat again so we could talk it over. She crossed her arms loosely. "How do you mean? You think your body's less prone to sleep because of all the time you spent bonded to the armor?" She said it to humor me. She knew the armor wasn't affecting anything anymore.

I shook my head, plunking down in my chair. I leaned my chin on my fist. "Guess I just never got on a regular schedule, you know? Nothing that ever stuck without setting alarms, anyway. It's more natural just nodding off at my desk here and there instead of sleeping eight hours straight."

May's hand was on my shoulder. Gentle, feminine, skin firmer at the sides of some fingers and her thumbs from handling kunai, and a steady touch that told you she could break your back just as easily as she was patting it. She met my eyes.

"Well, sure," she said. "You cut yourself off soon enough and you'll never sleep deep enough to dream. Is that what you're talking about?"

I put my face in my palm. "Maybe."

I heard the stray papers rustle as May scooted closer to me across the desktop. She took my hand and drew it away from my face to uncover my eyes, laced her fingers over mine. I'd memorized her hands, the way they worked. I could memorize a person's hands with one handshake, like a curse. After so many years of not being able to feel anything, my body had taken on some form of uncanny heightened awareness of physical contact.

"I thought things would be better," I said, "when it stopped being about the Portal every night." I hunched, eyes averting to the side. "But the stuff that happened outside the Portal was so much worse."

"Yeah," said May. Her grip on my hands felt just a bit tighter, not enough for most people to take notice. "But then we wake up and we're okay." I looked at her. She had her eyes down, focused loosely on our joined hands. "It gets better, Al. Just takes time. And not all of them have to be nightmares. The other night, I dreamt Philosopher's Stones could be turned back into people. It was really nice." She smiled and rolled her eyes to the side. "Until I woke up and realized it was just a dream."

I knit my brow. "You still dream about that stuff? I didn't know you got nightmares."

She shrugged. "Everyone gets nightmares, Al. Some people just have uglier material to fill them with." She took a moment to touch my face, her dark eyes heavy on mine. "But we wake up and we're okay."

I swallowed, studying her. She'd always seemed pretty easy to read to me, but the way she was looking at me this time, with her melancholy smile, I wondered if I'd been missing something. Something behind the spunk. Her eyes held depth. For a moment, I thought about what night would be like with just stars and no moonlight. None at all. And then she blinked.

"You've been waiting for me," I muttered.

"Hm?" she said.

"Huh?"

"You said something."

"No," I said. "Just talking to myself."

"Looked like a heartfelt conversation," she said with a giggle. She licked her thumb and went after the pen ink smudge on my chin again, saying,"Yeah, you need sleep, dumpling."

I bobbed my chin away from her obsessive smudging. That pen had been too high quality to just come off with a little spit and determination. I took her hands and held them still.

"I used to watch Brother sleep," I said. "Every night, almost. He tossed and turned all the time, even bolted up, but he never talked much about it when he woke up. Always felt like he had to downplay everything for me."

May shook her head. "Life _was_ a nightmare back then. In a way, we didn't get to wake up. Why talk about that?"

For a moment, her simple statement sunk in and made too much sense. It had always been my assumption that Brother avoided talking about his dreams because it had been an unpleasant subject at the time, but no. Maybe he'd never talked about it because being asleep had been the same as being awake for him. Waking up hadn't been a relief. It had been a door into another chapter of the same nightmare.

I frowned. "But then, wouldn't things be different now that our lives are back to normal?"

May snorted. "I wouldn't call your brother's life strictly normal."

"You know what I mean." I reached over and pulled my arm around her warm waist. "He's not living in a nightmare. That's as good as it gets for us." I rested my chin on her shoulder. "And I'm not saying that's a bad thing."

She twined her arms around my neck and settled there for a moment. "Al, does he ever seem sad to you?"

I blinked. "Who, Brother? He's always got something on his mind."

"You know him better than I do." It was like she was saying it more as a disclaimer than her actually trusting my judgement.

"Something wrong?" I asked. I figured she wanted me to ask.

"I don't know," she said. "Just a bad feeling."

My shoulders tensed. May's gut feelings tended to hold stock in most situations.

"Doesn't matter," I said, finally. "He wouldn't tell me if I asked."

Somewhere along the way, Brother had stopped telling me everything first. After that happened, it wasn't long before I started being the last to know. If I'd been honest with myself, I had no way of knowing whether Brother was relieved when he woke up in the morning these days. I'd taken it on faith that I'd been the only one who knew what it was like never to sleep. Never to wake up.

…

Edward Elric

Something was constricting around my stomach. Tight hot wires squeezing harder and harder, pushing the air out of my lungs so I couldn't expand into a full breath. Tiny fingertips digging fiercely into my back. Tiny forehead grinding into my collarbone. Tiny heels clamping my waist.

"Nina," Hawkeye was saying. "Nina, let go. Come on, baby. Let Uncle Ed wake up on his own."

I opened my eyes and coughed hard as Nina's body gripped me tighter in protest to her mother's order. I tugged the little body off me, like pulling off a leech. I gasped on a breath.

"Ow," I said.

I shifted on the couch. I'd fallen asleep with my head leaned straight back and now my neck hurt. Nina huddled in my lap insistently, clinging to my shirt.

"Sorry," said Hawkeye. "I don't know what set her off."

"It's fine," I said. I patted Nina's back and closed my eyes. "Leave her. You try making her let go again and she'll just cling harder." I looked down at the top of Nina's dark head. She had her face pressed into my chest, sitting curled and practically motionless besides her tiny, flittering breaths. "You got one hell of a grip, kiddo."

"You're sure you're okay with her? I can't stay," said Hawkeye. She gestured with her thumb to the hall. "I was about to help Winry get a bath, and Roy could be a while with the groceries."

"I know how to climb stairs," I said. "I'll return it," I pointed to Nina, "when it's ready." I looked at Nina. "Right?"

She nodded into my shirt.

"You got your Uncle Ed?" said Hawkeye with a warm smile. She petted Nina's hair. "Uncle Ed's the first person we've snubbed Mommy and Daddy for since we got adopted. We don't even want to stay with Miss Gracia when Mommy and Daddy go to work, huh?"

"Your baby-talk skills are impressive," I said. Scarily so.

"Look us up if you're ever interested in nannying part time," she said with a disturbingly straight face.

"You'll be the first to know."

She kissed Nina's head and made her way out the door. "Just shout if you need me."

"Sure," I said, though I was fairly certain Nina would be the first to shout when separation anxiety hit.

Hawkeye left the door open behind her. I'd thought briefly about falling asleep again, then about taking Nina upstairs with me and just having some time with Winry. Bath time had used to be our time and I was awake now anyway. All the same, Hawkeye had seemed worried about Nina freaking out for no apparent reason a minute ago. I figured it'd be pretty callous not to confront the issue while I had Nina alone.

"Hey, kid, let me ask you something," I said. "Did I say your name in my sleep?"

She nodded. There you go.

"That's why you got on my lap?" I said. "You thought I was calling you?" She didn't move. I sighed. "Nothing to be scared of," I said. "You're not in trouble. I wasn't calling you. I was calling," I paused, "some other Nina that isn't you. Understand?"

She shook her head. I heard her mumbled, "Nope."

My shoulders sank. So, we were going to do this. "Look, you don't have to get all clingy. You're fine. I knew a different little kid named Nina a long time ago. She's the one I was…talking to. So, you're in the clear. It's got nothing to do with you, so chill out, okay?"

"Yep," she mumbled.

"So," I said, working to peel her off me. "You can let go now."

She clung with a vengeance, like a little suction cup. "Nope," she said simply. "I hate that one the most."

"Oh, you do, do you?"

I looked down at her nervously. Mustang was going to come in with the groceries any minute and then badger me about what the hell his daughter was doing attached to my stomach while her mother was upstairs with Winry, at the end of which he'd figure out I'd been dreaming about Nina Tucker again and thus be informed that I still hadn't gotten over it. Not my proudest life experience and definitely not something I wanted anyone gaining much access to, especially not one of the guys who'd been around when it had happened but had gotten through it a lot less scathed than I had.

"You're okay," Nina whispered into the silence. Her little hand patted my arm in rhythmic, soothing taps. "Just a dream. Over. You're okay. All safe. I not to go away."

I felt my body freeze. I listened to her as Nina recited the familiar lines. They were the phrases I had heard her parents using on her over and over every night since they'd come to Risembool. She was talking me down from a nightmare. A perfect little pocket-sized mom in the making.

I blinked. "Nina?"

"It's okay," she continued. "All gone. Daddy won't let that happen again to you never ever."

My arms wrapped around her and I found myself hugging her closer like a reflex. She repositioned her arms around my neck and patted my shoulder now.

"Hush, hush," she said quietly. "All gone."

"This is normal for you," I said, "isn't it?"

"All gone, Uncle Ed. You're okay."

"You don't give a damn whose name I was calling." I closed my eyes. I opened them in a flash at the immediate lingering image of Nina Tucker's distorted figure. I shuddered. "You just know a bad one when you see it."

"You can have a water," she said. "It makes us feel better, I think so. Okay!"

Water. That was her security blanket, wasn't it? I felt a smile on my mouth.

"You know, that sounds like a nice idea, kiddo." I shifted her up in my arms and stood with her. "Yeah, let's get some water."

I saw her face, her bright, wet blue eyes. She was grinning at me, cheeks damp from crying.

"Nina can do it by myself for you someday maybe?" she said.

"Hey," I said, touching her face where the tears hadn't dried. "What's this about? Were you crying?"

She shook her head, face falling. Liar.

"You sure?" I said.

She muttered, "Yep," as she shook her head in the negative.

"Ah," I said. I couldn't help but smile. "I see." I carried her to the kitchen. "Why were you crying, kiddo? Did I scare you or something?" Wouldn't be the first time.

"Uh huh," she said.

I raised my eyebrows. I hadn't expected her to actually own up to it. Wasn't like her. "Oh. Well, sorry."

"Bless you," she said. Apparently she'd gotten the common response to an apology mixed up with the common response to a sneeze.

I chuckled. "Appreciate it." I tried putting her down on the kitchen floor, but her arms clung and her head leaned on my shoulder. I held her there, half-kneeling on the tile. "Hey, you okay? I thought you were going to get it all by yourself or whatever."

She rested her hand on my chest and just stayed there, draped, silent. She took a shaky breath. "I get that one a lot sometimes all the nights." A tremor ran through her. She pressed her face into my shoulder. "Me too."

I paused. Was she crying? Giving it sudden thought, Nina had probably never witnessed signs of a nightmare on anyone but herself until now. I mean, I had no way of knowing that for sure, but…She thought we had something mutually wrong with us. Well, you couldn't call it right.

"You too, huh?" I said.

She nodded, sniffing.

"Sucks, doesn't it?" I said.

"I don't love it to happen again," she said.

"But you wake up," I said, "right?"

She nodded.

"And your Daddy says it's over, right?"

She nodded.

"Do you believe him?" I said. She shifted her eyes onto me like she was looking for the right answer. I smiled. "I believe him."

She agreed immediately. "I think so."

I stood up with her. We'd grab the damn water together. "That's the great thing about sleeping, kiddo. You get to wake up." I looked at her, her awed smile. My eyes wandered to the traces of scars on her pale legs from her three years of being a lab subject and, for a split moment, I saw freckles and light brown braids tucked behind her little ears. I blinked and looked away quickly. "You get to leave all that stuff behind every morning and pretend it isn't there until it's time to pick it back up again for the night."

I felt Nina sink in my arms. "Daddy said that one goes away forever."

"Oh," I said, catching myself. "It does."

"Not for in the night, you said."

"I didn't say that." If I had, Mustang would murder me when he heard it from her, so I officially hadn't said it.

"Maybe so," said Nina glumly.

"No," I said. "I wasn't talking about that. Don't worry. All that stuff is definitely over. I just…" She looked up at me intently, waiting. I sighed. "Don't worry about it. I'm stupid. I don't exactly have a Daddy on hand to tell me that stuff's all gone when I wake up, so I sometimes forget, okay? I just forgot."

Nina broke into a grin, taking my comment to a whole new level of wrong. "My daddy's a good one forever! He gives us cuddles on the bed in the lights off so you go asleep if you wake up with crying on your face, maybe tonight?"

I cringed at the involuntary mental image of Mustang rocking me and Nina to sleep at night together. I shivered. That picture was scarier than the nightmares. On top of that, a second Nina calling me 'big brother' was too disturbing to think about in that moment. Or ever.

I shook off the thought. "Forget I said anything, kiddo." I breathed. "I'm okay. I don't need a dad. I am one. It cancels out somehow."

"I be your daddy now?" she said. Um, not quite, kid. She launched back into patting my arm and hushing me. "See? I do it like this. I do it."

A laugh came up in my throat. It was just in one ear and out the other with her half the time.

"See?" she said, modeling her expert paternal comforting skills with a meek smile.

"Yeah," I said. "You're going to make one hell of a father someday, Nina." And Mustang could murder me for saying that later.

…

Roy Mustang

Damn it. Not again. I took a breath as another wave of nausea hit. Just breathe. Keep breathing and you won't do it again.

I felt my stomach wrench. For a split moment, I smelled meat. I lurched over the toilet bowl and gave in. Third time since I'd woken up. Funny. I hadn't remembered getting sick to my stomach over Ishval half as much over there as I had just remembering it in the years that followed. It had been a few good months since I'd been unable to stomach a nightmare like this. Maybe it had been so long since the war that I was making it worse in my head than it really had been. I had to wonder.

No, don't wonder. Don't think about it. Don't think about not thinking about it or you'll just think about it more.

I clamped my hand over my mouth and breathed hard through my nose. Puke was for people who were sick or had food poisoning. No dignity in saying, "No, I'm fine. Just squeamish. That's what this is." For a split moment, I wondered if any of Winry's books on pregnancy had helpful tips on easing nausea.

I tilted my head back against the wall and moaned. "This is just bad."

"What's just bad?"

I looked up. Edward was standing in the doorway. I'd been in such a hurry to get to the toilet in time that I hadn't bothered to close the door behind me. Hadn't counted on needing to. It wasn't even four in the morning, last I'd checked.

Ed blinked. "You sick?" His voice was a little slurred, like I was pulling him out of sleep.

I leaned forward and flushed the toilet. "Not really."

He folded his arms. "Winry can't be around sick."

"I'm not," I said. "I'm just," I swallowed, "grossed out." I'd expected the phrase to sound slightly better than 'squeamish,' but it almost sounded worse now that I heard it aloud.

Ed's brow wrinkled. "Nina wet the bed or something?" The word 'wimp' was laced into his tone.

I sighed into my hand. Wasn't sure my stomach was ready to discuss it just yet. "Nasty dream," I said. That was all I really could say without sounding stupid. No shame in a vet admitting to having nightmares over Ishval, but my trigger nightmares were nothing short of pathetic when you got down to specifics.

"Oh," said Edward. "That bad."

Don't think about how bad it was. He didn't even ask, so why are you thinking about it like you're about to answer? I covered my nose.

"Guess I'll leave you to it, then," Ed said in a dull way that was practically apathetic. It was his been-there-done-that tone. He paused at the open door. "You need your wife or something, or is she on Nina duty."

I nodded. "Mm. The last one. No, I'm fine." Ed was so out of place in the moment that it was getting surreal. Now that I thought about it, being found vomiting from an ugly dream in Fullmetal's guest bathroom at four in the morning would qualify as one of the odder experiences of my life if taken out of context. I swallowed. The acid taste stuck at the back of my mouth made me shudder. I needed toothpaste.

"Sure you're not sick?" said Edward. "You look terrible." He put an emphasis on that last word.

"Thanks." I wanted to get up and go back to bed just to show him how not sick I was, but there was truth to the possibility that I wasn't ready to move. I closed my eyes. "It'll pass faster if you leave me alone."

I could hear his tired, shuffling steps all the way down the hall. The contrast between the clink of his automail and the padded thump of his real foot on the floorboards seemed more obvious in the night stillness. Rubbing my somewhat clammy face, it came to my attention that he hadn't mentioned what had gotten him up at the odd hour.

A good twenty minutes passed and nothing happened, so I got up and leaned against the sink to brush my teeth. I'd have to remember to get a new toothbrush. Sticking the vomit one back in my mouth later would've been unpleasant to say the least. I thought about going straight back to bed, which was really all I wanted to do, but my legs were already starting to cramp from losing all that water and I knew I'd end up having to get up to rehydrate within the next half hour anyway. I'd been hearing movement from the kitchen since Edward had left the bathroom. I was okay with his kind of company, mostly because half the time he seemed so preoccupied that it was like he wasn't there.

I made it to the kitchen table and slumped into a seat. The air was neutral, but just the setting on its own could trick me into reliving that smell. I was feeling shaky again. Edward stared at me from across the table. In his hand he had a half eaten sandwich, I noticed. No plate. Just a sandwich and clusters of crumbs scattered over the tabletop from what I assumed could've even been previous sandwiches. Hm. He hadn't been kidding all those times he'd claimed to catch up on calories between missed meals.

"Midnight snack?" I said.

"Not going to bother you is it?" he said. He took another bite as if to tell me he wasn't going to put food away on my account.

"Not too bad," I said. "Told you I wasn't sick."

"Your dreams are that gross?" he said.

I slumped, leaning my face into my hand. "Can you get me some water? I think I dehydrated myself."

He didn't bother swallowing all the way before answering. "You can't do it?" I gave him a look. He rolled his eyes. "Just asking."

He held the remainder of his sandwich in his mouth as he grabbed me a glass from the cupboard and filled it up in a sloppy way that told me he was more sleep deprived than I'd realized. He half-stumbled back to the table and set the glass in front of me.

"Ishval?" The word came out muffled with the sandwich still held between his teeth, but I caught it. That tended to be everyone's first guess. I nodded. Ed sat, mumbling, "Sucks."

"What's got you up this early?" I asked. "You look like a zombie."

Ed shrugged a shoulder lazily. "Being pregnant makes Winry snore like a jackhammer. Hard to get through the night when she falls asleep first, you know?" He held up the bit of sandwich like an example. "Figured I could at least try to be productive."

"You haven't slept?" I asked.

"You don't even want to know, Mustang."

It was pretty impressive how easily he talked about Winry's snoring problem without laughing. Riza and I cracked up every time we heard her from our room below. The first few times, we'd honestly assumed it was Edward.

I sipped at the water. The mint from the toothpaste I'd used earlier made it go down feeling colder than it was. Not necessarily a bad thing. Still a little disorienting.

"So," said Edward. "You still dream about all that Ishval stuff? It's been a decade."

I nodded. "More."

He sighed. "Well, that's promising."

His sarcasm was tainted with sincerity. Like he might actually be half interested in the subject. Well, he was technically a veteran. Made some sense he'd find it bleak seeing me still struggling after so long.

"Oh," I said. "You worried about you?"

He looked at me briefly. He looked away. "No. Just saying."

So, we were playing 'no vulnerability?' Classic Edward. I rolled my eyes. "Look, it's not what you're thinking. I don't dream about Ishval close to as much as people think I do. It's an old stereotype." Edward met my eyes for just a glance like he hadn't expected me to be looking back. I sighed. I'd caught the skeptical look on his face. He thought I was downplaying things because I'd caught on to him comparing himself to me.

Ed stood silently and made it to the sink to get a cloth. He wet it and came back to the table to wipe the crumbs into his hand. He'd practically spilled half a slice of bread through the course of his sandwiches.

"Hey," I said as he turned to dump the crumbs in the trash. He looked over his shoulder at me. I swallowed. "Don't worry about it. It wasn't about Ishval. I dreamed," I couldn't help but tense at my own words, "Riza was making pork chops without seasoning them. You know how that is? When people cook meat without putting stuff on it to mask that gamey smell? It's terrible."

Edward tossed the rag in the sink and came back to the table. "Wait, you had an all out nightmare about your wife ruining dinner?"

I hunched. Yep. That about summed it up. Pork smelled the most like human as it cooked, it turned out. I'd made the connection a long time ago and it'd bothered me ever since. I could have a gruesome nightmare about frying Ishvalan children alive and wake up in a sweat, but nothing made my stomach turn like nightmares about the smell of badly prepared pork. Yes. Those were my claim to fame when it came to lasting affects of the Ishavalan Civil War.

"Damn" said Edward. "You've got it rough."

I frowned. "Yeah, yeah."

"I was being serious," he said. I caught the look on his face.

I stared back at him. "Really?"

"Yeah," he said stubbornly, like I'd made some kind of argument. "You can't even dream about your wife making a stupid dinner without it turning into all that Ishval stuff by the time you wake up. I call that having it rough."

"Never really," I blinked, "thought of it like that."

"You serious?" His brow pinched. "What, like that's supposed to make me feel better? Because nightmares that don't include flashbacks aren't considered legit nightmares or something? Jeez, Mustang. People don't worry when I get sad at my mom's grave. They worry when I get sad at the toaster because it looks like a gravestone."

My eyes instinctively darted to the toaster to confirm the statement. Yep. I could see how that could be compared to a gravestone from a good angle.

Edward sighed harshly. He stood. "You're useless. I'm going back to bed before I start having doubts about you being my Fuhrer someday." He gave me a glance. "Not that I didn't have any already."

He walked past me sluggishly, just barely more alert than he had been when I'd come in. I watched him, the way his shoulders hunched in something that was more than just exhaustion. It was like something was weighing him down. His posture was almost defensive, slumped into himself.

"Ed," I said as he disappeared into the hall.

He stepped back into the kitchen and met my gaze loosely. "Mm?"

"You've seen some shit," I said, "but nothing like Ishval. I wouldn't worry about this stuff."

Edward stared at me for a moment. "Idiot," he said. "I told you I wasn't talking about me." He shoved his hands in his pajama pockets sulkily and walked out into the hall. I could hear him grumbling, "Idiot bastard," as he left.

I stared down at my part full water glass. Yep. That right then was usually as close as it got when it came to Ed admitting he was worried about you.

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**"_Ragtime Warfare and a bit of snow_," by ****TrigramCyborg**** (and sister) —ALERT! AUTHOR HAS FOUND A FANFICTION SHE THINKS HER FOLLOWING COULD GET INTO! Because you guys loved 'Flame Legacy' and this also post-series fanfic involves very similar elements but has its own totally unique take. Great plot/character, awesome, believable OC's, intriguing relationships, and no sacrificing quality for distracting fan service. Go check it out and bombard it with reviews (cuz that's kinda what I did). The fifth chapter just went up!**

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**Replies!** (I'm doing really long ones because I feel bad for disappearing and not posting for so long):

Rumia: Don't worry about it. Insomnia's been a life struggle. Semi-recently I went off the pills that had been knocking me out for the past couple years, so I'm STILL figuring out how to fall asleep naturally. At this point, my doctors are like, "Well, good luck with that." Thanks for the concern, though. I'm fine.

KTrevo: Hawkeye *gun click*- "If I could go over ten years without crossing the Anti-Frat laws, you sure as hell can hold your Hippocratic Oath a few lousy months, sister. Now drop and give me fifty!" Yes. Just like that.

PhantomhiveHost: Yeah, Ed's an interesting character. It's like he has selective insights. Sometimes, it's like, "Damn, Ed!" and sometimes, it's like, "…damn. Ed."

Mordmil: Aw, haha! That's funny, though. He should name his kid Maes. That's a golden opportunity right there :D

mixmax300: Yes, poor dear. Ed would get so traumatized by that kind of thing, wouldn't he? "She kissed my cheek…" "And?" "For a whole second!" "And?" "And I didn't like it." "Huh?" "…I didn't like it." *face-palm*

SilverPedals1402: Ed's great. So oblivious it didn't dawn on him that he had feelings for Winry until Hawkeye said it. Poor guy. Probably the last to figure that one out, too.

Madamestang: Well, if you really want to know what's up with Roy, Riza, and babies before it's explained fully in this story, it's explained in one of the OVA chapters in 'Flame Lagacy.' It's titled "Mother's Day Special," if I remember correctly. Otherwise, just wait and it'll be explained in my next on-plot post :)

Harryswoman: Yeah, I think I knew about Winry's dad's name a long time ago. I think I looked it up a couple times in the past year or so. I think fans have corrected me on it on multiple accounts, even. Just, somewhere along the way, I got it in my head that his name was John. I dunno how, but it stuck. Time to just accept it. From now on, in the world of practice4morale, Winry's dad's middle name was John and therefore the whole thing can just be one giant grey area that I am allowed to mess up in. Okay!

rye: I ate a gluten-free yellow cake today and it tasted kinda like cornbread. I was like, long ago, in a galaxy far away, Winry invented this cake mix for Maes's 60th birthday. Because she would totally still be baking him birthday cakes when he was old enough for medicare.

Eizion: Ha! You kiddin? I love reviews. Keep 'em coming, silly :P Thanks for the encouragement :D

BlueIsTheColourOfOurPlanet: I should make an alternate chapter where the truth is that Mustang hasn't updated his medical paperwork in a long time and he's paranoid that Jess came to Risembool from Central just to make him get his tetanus and meningitis shots. That could work.

fangirl2013: Thank you! I've been taking extra care this time to keep characters in character and all that. It's my third multi-chap fic, so I gotta step it up a notch.

justaislinn: Yay, you looked into my other stuff? I loved my previous stories to pieces, but I always felt like there was a little story left untold between BBG and FL, y'know? Anyway, thanks for the praise. Nina and Maes are my boo-boos and I love people bragging on them :P

realsky: Like, you had all these things you were in suspense about, and they were all answered in the stuff I am yet to transfer from my old hard drive…So, at least there's a light at the end of the tunnel, right? Heh.

Kimblee Does Not Approve: Dr. Pope- "What are you talking about? Jessica isn't interested in boys yet. She doesn't know anything about that…lady stuff." Pretty much my dad's reaction when my mom gave him the 'your daughters are becoming young ladies, dear' speech.

author12306: Aw, Nina plus cookies?! She'd be like a little lap-puppy. Roy could totally teach her how to do tricks… *Author desperately wants to see this*

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**For anyone interested, after getting thwarted from writing for a while, I did a crapton of fan art for, like, all my fics combined. Check out the deviantart link on my profile for a couple new editions to the 'Flame Legacy' stack!**


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